


Heartsick

by HadenXCharm



Category: Bleach
Genre: Aftermath, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Dark, Fights, Getting Together, Gore, Graphic Violence, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, If I do say so myself, Insanity, Love Confessions, M/M, New Relationship, Rape, Torture, Triggering Material, both pairings have equal screentime, dark but there's still a lot of romance, the renichi in this one is excellent, tw: graphic non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-04-20 15:21:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 19
Words: 75,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14263920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HadenXCharm/pseuds/HadenXCharm
Summary: "It takes a dark and deranged heart to kill one's friends."After an encounter with a strange Arrancar, Ikkaku finds himself beginning to attack the people around him because of a ravenous hunger. Has he let something infect his mind, or is it his heart that's changed? In his insanity, would he stoop to harming his dearest friends just to satisfy his urges to kill or worse?In any case, it looks like Ichigo picked the wrong moment to visit Seireitei.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ BEFOREHAND:
> 
>  
> 
> Back around 2012, I wrote a fic called Losing the Fight. It was basically a torture fic, but it's by far my most popular work of all time to this day. My writing has considerably improved over the years, so I decided to do a revamped version of that story. This is /not a sequel or a rewrite/ but it includes many of the same elements as the original. Now with more gore, more violence, more angst, a better plot, and with a Renichi plotline. 
> 
>  
> 
> SOLE WARNING: this fic gets /very disturbed/ and contains graphic non-con scenes.  
>  
> 
> One more note, this is meant to read in the manga/anime style, so I've also added links to the OST if you want to enhance your reading. If you see an underlined word, I've specially chosen a track for that passage.

     It was an exciting day in Soul Society, at least for the Division Eleven men. The weekly strikes against the Hollows lurking in the woods was a fun enough time, to be sure, but a Seireitei-wide mass attack against some Hollow squadrons — well damn, it was like New Years had come early.  
  
Most of their division was moving around with Captain Zaraki in mob form, but the groups that had splintered off were being directed by Ikkaku and Yumichika, who were stationed together out in the middle of it, sending groups to aid soldiers from other squads that were becoming overwhelmed alarmingly quickly. Division Twelve hadn’t forecasted the appearance of Arrancar, and the unexpected challenge they were met with only geared Ikkaku up more. He might get an actually challenging fight today, that was, if he could get there before the captain.

To Ikkaku’s frustration, most of the enemies near his post were Hollows and Menos Grande — how come he only gets the small fry, huh?

“When’m I gonna’ get ta’ have some fun today,” he kept grumbling, “God damnit.”    He knew there were a few Arrancar lurking around leading these mindless drones. They were impossible to miss, being humanoid, first of all, and of course, the way they occasionally swallowed errant Hollows that got in their way was another obvious, if disturbing tip-off.  
  
“Patience. I’m sure your luck will turn around soon,” Yumichika noted, unconcerned with his griping.

Ikkaku straightened up suddenly. “Wah!” he shouted excitedly, spotting one coming out of the trees in the distance. “Right there!”

“See, there you go.”

“This one’s mine,” he told Yumichika with an anticipatory grin, stretching out his shoulders and neck for a second, giving his knuckles a good crack too. “Don’t tell Taichou I’m slackin’ off.”

Yumichika gave him a sly side-eye, checking his nails and surveying the battlegrounds again, ever vigilant, almost heartlessly composed. If Ikkaku might say so, he’s real pretty when he’s on the job.  

“Did you say something just now?” Yumichika hummed smoothly, raising one curvy eyebrow in feigned ignorance, the rascal.

“This is why you understand me, Yumichika!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  
  
“You’re the best.” Ikkaku rotated his arm in the socket one last time, before he let out a gusty breath of excitement, grinned widely, and then shot off to engage.

 

_‘Let’s go, Houzukimaru! Things are about to get interesting!’_

 

Ikkaku didn’t screw around, so eager that he hit home immediately, jumping straight into fighting that guy with a hefty strike from above, testing his abilities, pleased when he was blocked with ease. He hated when it was over too quickly, when the win came too easy; not that he wanted to _lose,_ but he’d like to at least break a sweat once in a while. Y’know, _near-_ defeat.

He didn’t notice much about his opponent, because to Ikkaku, an Arrancar’s an Arrancar really — at least until seeing their Resurrección — but the few identifying characteristics he did take note of was that its Hollow hole was irregular, meaning it wasn’t round, which was something he’d never seen before. It had short white hair, white eyes — and he means _white,_ there’s no pupil or anything and it’s kind of fucked how freaky it is — and of course, what he cared most about was its sword: a huge yanagi, perfect for rending flesh.

After trading lightning quick blows and neither finding opportunity to strike, they got to talking.  
  


_‘Houzukimaru, you lazy ass! You paying attention?! This is gonna’ be badass! Look, he’s blocking all of my moves!’_

_‘Alright, don't get excited, you’re the one who needs to pay attention, shitty kid!’_  
  


After a particularly hard clash of their swords, the blades locking together, Ikkaku was forced back several yards when the Arrancar struck down. They stood and sized each other up for a moment, and Ikkaku noticed that the other guy was grinning too, just like him — although it didn’t seem it was from enjoyment. It seemed like open malice.  

“They call me White Heart,” the guy finally said. His voice sounded pretty normal. Ikkaku didn’t know why, but he’d been expecting something more… _psychotic._ He had that look about him.

“Who the fuck cares what your name is?! All I care about is whether you’re strong or not!” Ikkaku hollered, sword and scabbard out to his sides, one in each hand. “Let’s fight, that’s why we’re here!”

And they do; they go at it _hard._ They were ripping up chunks of grass and clearing a wide swath in the chaos going on around them, plowing through anything that got caught in the crossfire.

Ikkaku was having fun, but kept it in the back of his mind that he shouldn’t let this drag out for _too_ long. He was supposed to be leading the squad, but of course, he could count on Yumichika to cover for him.

He was vaguely aware of his buddy, a good distance away somewhere, preoccupied with directing their forces and keeping the low-level Hollows away from him so that he could put all his energy into fighting the big-bad. He was still kicking ass as usual too, despite the fact that it turned out he had a scary and cannibalistic flower-power sword. Hey, who would’ve guessed?

Anyways, even though Yumichika was taking care of business for him, if he fucked around for too long, Taichou was going to come by and see that he’d pawned off his job on Yumichika, and then he’d be in hot shit. That’d be just plain embarrassing.

Figuring he should wrap it up here, Ikkaku brought it up a notch and was really fucking the guy up, but instead of succumbing, the Arrancar was fighting through the pain, pain that shouldn’t be able to be borne through with sheer willpower. He didn’t even slow down when Ikkaku struck his flesh, and strangely, he couldn’t be intimidated or angered either. It became fairly clear that he was totally insane.

   _‘I don’t like your face,’_ Ikkaku decided, although it didn’t detract from his good mood much. He just doesn’t like looking at his fucking _eyes_ — _ugh, they’re grossing him out._  

Ikkaku was actually getting a little disturbed, which was something right there, because not much bothered him, but even for him, this was getting hard to stomach. His eyes, guh, with them all white like that, he can’t tell where they’re looking, and it’s _weird._ On top of it, the guy wasn’t far from having his guts just plain _hanging out_ at this point, and he was still fighting with the same vigor as he had in the beginning, not even slowing down. He’s like a flesh puppet that didn’t know his stuffing was coming out. Ikkaku can’t tear his gaze away, morbidly fascinated.

 

“Yo! Ikkaku!” Ikkaku heard from somewhere on his left. Looks like the kid had even shown up. That’d mean some fun for later then, if he can get a fight or two out of him before he went home again. Not to mention Renji’d be over the moon, which meant he’d have enough material to tease him with for a few months.

  “Don’t distract me, Ichigo!”

Their swords were locked together again, pressing hard. It was difficult to brace, because the Arrancar’s sashimi knife was really slick and didn’t grip into his own blade the way it should.

 _‘Huh…’_ Ikkaku tilted his head, frowning deeply. He hadn’t really paid attention before, but now that he was up close and made to hold still, he noticed now that the Hollow hole in the Arrancar’s chest wasn’t just lopsided. The edges looked like they’d been carved, _gouged out_ purposefully.

 

         _‘It kinda’ looks like… a heart?’_

 

He was convinced that it wouldn’t be long now, there was no way it could keep this up — but it kept breathing through its wounds and all the blood and the exposed intestines. It kept standing and it kept breathing and it would not die, would not dissolve into nothingness. Ikkaku narrowed his eyes. Did he have to cut off its head before it would finally goddamn keel over?

 

“What kinda’ man _are_ you?” Ikkaku finally questioned [ incredulously](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r9tuRaSthF0).

 

Its voice did start to sound psychotic then, because it fucking _laughed,_ blood seeping out from between its teeth and spilling down its chin and neck. Ikkaku recoiled as its cold white eyes rolled, _rolled,_ and there is a pupil there, an empty dark hole in the center of each eye, staring into his, manic and dilated wide.     

  “I’m like no man you’ve ever seen.”

 

Hurled back by a blast of reiatsu, Ikkaku dug his heels into the ground, skidding back and crouching low, and then watched from a distance as the Arrancar used its release form.  
  
With it, it seemed to lose all interest in Ikkaku.

He couldn’t tell what its new weapon was for a moment, but quickly figured it out when he saw it hold up a hand, gleaming with silver. They’re needles, senbon, and Ikkaku felt a single instant of _‘What’re you gonna’ do with those puny things,’_ before immediately and sorely regretting it when the guy lined them up on his palm and then hurled them with reiatsu to strike his targets.

Ikkaku quickly blocked. “Shit!” he cursed when he narrowly deflected it, another one whizzing past his head.  
  


_‘What the fuck?!’_

_‘Look alive, kid, before this turns into a mess.’_

_‘Let’s finish it.’_  
  


He slammed both ends of his sword and sheath together, calling out his shikai. “Nobiro, Houzukimaru!”

If Ikkaku had thought the guy was acting somewhat normal in the beginning, he’d gone fucking insane, and at that point in the fight, Ikkaku was just trying his damndest to keep him contained, because with those needles, he was hitting other guys outside of their fight, who were taking out Hollows nearby.

“One.”

It was really hard to block needles with the head of a spear. Ikkaku was good, but he’s not that good.

“Two.”

He could block himself, but no more than that. People were getting hurt. He could hear them scream each time the needles struck home.

“Three.”

    “Hey stop, you’re fighting me, aren’t you?!” Ikkaku shouted, but to no effect.

The guy was hitting people one by one. One went through a guy’s hand, another’s forearm, a thigh. It was so fast- Ikkaku was panting, stretched to his limit. He’d screwed around for too long, he should’ve ended it earlier.  
  
  
“Four…”

 _  
_ _“Ahh!”_ Ichigo yelled in pain somewhere behind him.

   
“Fuck!” Ikkaku swore. Don’t get distracted, don’t get distracted, focus, block, block, block—

 

 

_“Five.”_

 

 _“Huh-!”_ A needle pierced right into Ikkaku’s chest, penetrating it completely, and he stumbled back a few steps. For a moment, he was just stunned, the breath knocked clean out of him, because despite the relatively small size of the needle, the force of it embedding in his flesh had shaken his entire body, the _thock_ sound ringing in his head so loudly that it was as if it had been an arrow or a _javelin_ to the chest.

 

   “Dead in the heart. Perfect.”

 

The moment of surprise passed, and then it started _burning,_ and Ikkaku reflexively screamed in pain. _Fuck,_ it really hurt!

“You fucking bastard,” Ikkaku panted, bending forward and pressing his hand to his sternum, still feeling short of breath, his bones still vibrating from the sheer force of the blow.

“You know,” the Arrancar told him, its voice calm and normal once again, “A heart’s a beautiful thing. But so easily changed.”

“I don’t know what the fuck that means,” he wheezed contemptuously. He was still doubled over in pain.      _‘Ah god, this is-… Hoooo, that stings.’_

The Arrancar lifted a hand, pointing a finger in the air, and made a butterfly out of reishi. Ikkaku watched, rasping for breath as it slowly quivered and warped.

White Heart, whatever the fuck his name was, stalked towards him, but Ikkaku found he couldn’t stand up straight, feeling too fucked up to do anything but pant and groan in pain. A white hand took him by the throat, yanking him almost off his toes, and Ikkaku grit his teeth, watching as the butterfly changed shape, warping as though a wasp had crawled out of it and devoured it from the inside.

Wet lips whispered, an inch from his face, flecking him with blood, “Imagine what’s about to happen to _you.”_

Ikkaku returned his spear to its sword state, ramming it into the Arrancar’s gut and ripping it out to the side, bursting his insides in a thick spray as he cut him clean in half.

He dropped to the ground, and watched as the Arrancar stumbled back from him, legs falling uselessly into the mud. As he dissipated in front of him, he started clawing at his chest and screaming, _howling,_ digging his nails in and gouging his flesh out, prying his ribs open, and nothing, there was nothing there inside except an empty black hole.

  And then he’s gone.

 

      Ikkaku caught his breath, turning away and shuddering.    _‘Yeesh.’_

 

With that craziness over with, he shook off the pain, still feeling pretty pumped up. That had been really intense! It sure was lucky he’d been in the right place to catch that fight!

_‘Woo, yeah, Houzukimaru, we showed that guy!’_

Ikkaku continued huffing and panting a little bit, still coming down from the rush. “Sleeping already, lazy bones?” he teased when he didn’t get an answer.

Despite the battles still going on around him, everything seemed eerily silent and muffled, as if he was experiencing it from a distance. He shook off Houzukimaru’s nonresponse initially, but that quiet quickly began to perturb him. It was so, so quiet. He didn’t understand.

Was he in some sort of shock or something? He looked down at himself, looked around at the clamor going on, and he rubbed at his ears, touched his chest, and felt cold.

He was still laughing a bit, and it seemed to echo somehow, as if he were in an empty room. He was sure he’d snap out of it soon, whatever it was.

 _‘That was a great fight, but I’m not ready ta’ stop yet. Ya’ see anymore big guys, Houzukimaru?’_ Ikkaku looked around, eyes sharp and surveying the carnage for any enemies left unengaged.

 _  
_ _‘Hey.      Houzukimaru,’_ he insisted.   _‘C’mon, you lazy fucker, don’t go ta’ sleep yet.’_

 

  
  There came no answer.

Now he was a little bit troubled. He looked down at his sword for damage but it looked absolutely fine. He met his own eye in the blade and frowned, running a hand along it. He couldn’t hear his sword’s spirit. In fact, he couldn’t feel Houzukimaru at all, now that he thought on it. It hasn’t been like that since his bankai broke, and even then, Houzukimaru had been there with him, just badly hurt. Now, it was like he’d up and left, like he was just plain gone.

 

_‘What the fuck. What the fuck.’_

 

Not ready to acknowledge any harsh forced breaths of distress or any feeling of panic, Ikkaku looked around and swallowed, goosebumps rising on his arms and neck. Shit, okay, he needed Yumichika, something was wrong here.

 

. . .

 

      When Ichigo came through the senkaimon, it looked as though he’d arrived just in time for some action.

He’d planned to visit his friends and settle in, but instead he was spending his afternoon being sent around to the toughest enemies by any senior officers who saw him pass by on the battlefield. He wasn’t exactly sure how long Seireitei was going to let him keep coming and going as he pleased now that Aizen had been put away and everything, didn’t know how much longer they’d let him roam around as their hero, didn’t know how much longer before he’d outlive his usefulness and they’d start classifying him and his uncontainable power as the next threat facing Soul Society rather than its protector.

It might have something to do with why he wasn’t visiting as often, slowly spending less and less time here and devoting himself more to his real life. He’d be lying if he said it wasn’t bittersweet. As glad as he was to be home, it was hard to let go completely. He liked coming back here.

He’s still young though, and tried not to worry about the future too much — for now, he let them all use him as their heavy-weapon.

He’d been away for awhile this time, so it was nice to get back in the swing of things, blow off some steam and see old friends. He even ran into Ikkaku when he was sent over his way, but saw that the maniac had already beat him to the Arrancar.

When he saw he had it covered, Ichigo spotted Renji nearby and headed towards him for some new orders, and to greet him of course, because they hadn’t seen each other yet, but on his way over, all of a sudden, there was a sharp, _sharp pain_ in his forearm — [ so intense](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zpToxhuvsfY) that he actually dropped his sword and yelled aloud, because it just burned so badly.

He stumbled forward, clapping his other hand over the source of the pain — _Shit,_ what was that?!

 

 _‘Fuck!’_ Shirosaki raged, sounding pained himself.

 

Ichigo picked up his sword, hardly able to make a fist for a second when the pain took its sweet time fading away. When he managed to heft his beefy zanpakutou back up, he saw that there was a bleeding mark on his arm, a small round wound, as though he’d been jabbed with a pin.

“What the hell…” He turned his tender wrist over and saw that there was actually an exit mark on the other side. Whatever it was had gone clean through.

 _‘What the fuck did you just do?!’_ Shirosaki howled, still cursing up a storm.

Usually Shiro didn’t care a thing about him getting wounded other than for a chance to stage a mutiny and come out to play while he was too weak to stop him. He never sounded pained himself unless Ichigo was _really_ fucked up. So naturally, this was weird, and bad.

  
“What?! What happened!” Ichigo said aloud, alarmed.

 

_‘Why should I know?! Son of a bitch, you idiot!’_

 

Ichigo caught his breath, switching his sword to his other hand and shaking his aching wrist out, drops of blood flinging to the ground.   _‘I’ve got it under control, okay?’_

 

_‘Don’t make me come out there!’_

 

“No need,” he panted, holding Zangetsu in two hands. It felt somehow brittle, unsteady almost — but he wasn’t much concerned. He was feeling better by the moment. Renji wasn’t far. Whatever this was would pass by the time he got there.

He glanced to his arm again and the dark blood running down and drying up.   … What the fuck _was_ that?

 

. . .

 

Ikkaku stumbled over to Yumichika, each step taking his utmost concentration. He felt as though he was walking through a haze, each impact his foot made with the ground echoing through his head as though he were underwater. His vision seemed to sway. All of this was true, and yet, he could walk in a straight line, could respond to everything going on around him just as he normally would. Something was different; he couldn’t place what.

For now he’d chalk it up to blood-loss.

He wasn’t big on being healed because scars and wounds were a sign of his pride and would remind him of the fun he’s had, but he felt like something was wrong with Houzukimaru, and Yumichika had those healing flowers, and maybe he could just take a look at it — maybe Ikkaku wasn’t seeing the problem. Yeah, just a few more steps.

As he staggered towards his friend, numb and fuzzy, the thing that still perturbed him most was this feeling of stillness and silence within despite the battling going on around him. He knew he was actually pretty messed up from that fight, could feel the wet trails of blood, and he must look like total hell, because Yumichika’s face fell in concern when he caught sight of him.  The guy can never hide it even when he tried. It had used to really irritate Ikkaku but a lot’s changed.

“‘Michika,” he acknowledged, not wanting to legitimize any worry of Yumichika’s about his wounds, because he’s perfectly fine. Just a little bleeding going on. Houzukimaru’s the one he’s worried about.

Yumichika didn’t say anything about his sorry physical state — he knew when to keep his mouth shut about these things, but he must’ve somehow sensed Ikkaku’s uneasiness, because he looked at him for a moment and then asked, “What’s happened?”

He hadn’t expected the question exactly, and Ikkaku didn’t know why, because Yumichika hadn’t even asked about _that_ in particular, but what comes out of his mouth is, _‘It’s just a bee sting.’_

  
 He didn’t even remember thinking the words. They just spill out automatically, like vomit.

 

. . .

 

Yumichika had expected Ikkaku to come back in some state of disarray, and as always, he’d expected to handle it with a superficial veneer of dismissiveness, no matter how he might _personally_ feel seeing Ikkaku torn into bloody strips. He was used to keeping those concerns to himself after this long, but this time, it’s different.

When Ikkaku stumbled towards him, his yukata was falling open in the front, torn and wet with blood and dirt.    _‘Messy boy.’_   His chest was clearly visible, and as such, it was immediately obvious that there was an out-of-place wound there. Ikkaku had cuts and gashes elsewhere, but in the center of his chest, there was this _dot,_ red and inflamed.

 _‘What on earth is that?’_ Ruri’iro wondered gravely.

Yumichika would’ve paid it no mind, or pretended not to like he did with every other result of Ikkaku’s destructive behavior, but the slightly pinched faraway look on Ikkaku’s face as he closed the gap between them had him looking twice.

It occurred to him that a sword didn’t leave a mark that small, and realizing then that Ikkaku seemed to have reflexively come to his side for some sort of comfort, Yumichika zeroed in on the wound, concerned.

“What’s happened?” he asked, because he could see in Ikkaku’s face that something wasn’t right.

“It’s just a bee sting,” Ikkaku dismissed, and then turned his head away, staring off over the field as though his only intention in coming back this way was to return to his post, not to soothe whatever worry that was clearly clouding his mind.

That in itself wasn’t so out of the ordinary, as Ikkaku didn’t usually _verbally_ agree to being fussed over, but would occasionally tolerate it — it’s especially been like that since his confession. Ikkaku’s been much more lenient in letting him heal him up after fights, claiming it was only because it kept him in the action longer.

And so, thinking he was being given a wordless carte-blanche to check on him if he wanted, Yumichika leaned forward and frowned, because Ikkaku was obviously lying about whatever that was.

 _‘Bee sting, my eye,’_ Ruri’iro inserted scornfully. Yumichika privately agreed.

[ He tried](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r69L2PGgkgw) to touch the purported insect bite and look at it more closely, but before he could so much as lay a hand against Ikkaku’s chest, his body reeled back with the force, his neck snapping to the side and his cheek bursting with sudden pain.

His hand flew to his face as he stumbled to right himself, and it took a stunned moment or two for him to realize that Ikkaku had slapped him across the face. It all happened in a split second, and after he looked up in shock to meet Ikkaku’s dark expression, he barely jumped back in time when Ikkaku went for him again.

 _‘How dare you!’_ Ruri screeched, reiatsu swelling in outrage.

After the initial surprise of the attack, Yumichika retaliated and blocked, and it was easy for him to stop Ikkaku, because Yumichika knew Ikkaku’s fighting style inside and out, and something was amiss. Ikkaku was a versatile fighter with the way his weapon transformed; sword, double-handed sword and sheath combo, a spear, not to mention one that broke into sections, and then there was his heavy weapon guandao and spade.

Ikkaku was quick-thinking and strategic and flexible, he could block a pebble off the head of his spear, could practically bend himself in half, and had incredible stamina — but right now, all that seemed to forgotten in favor of a blind rage. He was all attack and no defense, no forethought. Yumichika fended him off fairly easily, because Ikkaku wasn’t even using his weapon. He’d dropped it to the ground. He was trying to hit him with his _fists._

Yumichika was dug back a few paces as Ikkaku’s punch landed at his crossed forearms. Winded, he ceded a few more steps, because Ikkaku was so strong and hit just _so hard,_ graceless as he was at the moment. The two of them sparred sometimes, and they’d had their arguments — although Ikkaku made a point of not devolving into violence when they were upset with each other — but Ikkaku has never once used full-force on him like that, with clear malintent, meaning to _harm_ him. Not even when the whole Ruri’iro issue had come out — even though Ikkaku had been betrayed and upset in the beginning, he’d never tried to hurt him, and that’s what he was trying to do now.

Something shrunk up inside Yumichika, small and stupid and anxious. _What did he do?_ Why was Ikkaku angry with him?

He got annoyed sometimes when he tried to heal him or showed his worry too openly, but he never… he’d never _struck_ him. God, Ikkaku had _struck_ him!    Why? _Why, why, why?!_

 

. . .

 

Ikkaku was feeling a bit better as time passed. As usual, he’d been right about being around Yumichika bringing his confidence back.

  Of course nothing had been wrong, he felt fine.  

He stretched his shoulders and his aching hands, and then looked around when he found Houzukimaru wasn’t at his side, and was lying in the grass. “Hm,” he noted with a frown, leaning down to pick him up. When he stood, he looked up to Yumichika’s face, a _‘weird,’_ on his tongue, but it didn’t come out when he saw Yumichika was in a bad mood and was looking at him too, standing stock still with one foot back like he was poised to run.

“You’re not mad, are ya’?” Ikkaku complained, not liking that Yumichika should give him the silent treatment. “I know I took longer than I thought with that guy, but I’m here now, so…”

He saw why when he noticed that Yumichika’s cheek and jaw was bruised up and swelling. He’d probably be in a stink for days over that.

“Shit, no wonder you’re pissed.”  

Ikkaku moved forward to look at it and maybe turn Yumichika’s head in his hand and rub his thumb on the bruise, but Yumichika stepped back and said in a strained sour tone, “Don’t touch me, Ikkaku,” and gave him a look of such _contempt._

 _‘What?...’_    

“...” He’d deny that he was hurt at being given the cold shoulder, but it sure didn’t feel _good._ Ikkaku let his hand drop and pursed his lips, brow clenching. “Whatever. I’ll sleep in the other room tonight,” he grunted. They didn’t speak another word, a tension between them that Ikkaku never liked.

They headed in once the action was over, and the thought arose unprovoked:

                

                            ̠͈‘It’s not e͎͖̖n̘̫̩̪oug̩̹ḥ̺.̠’̠̯̟̬̘̱


	2. Chapter 2

Yumichika woke up and went about his morning routine quietly. Standing in front of the mirror, he turned his face this way and that, frowning his displeasure. He looked awful.

He’d hardly slept last night. He and Ikkaku were very close, and ever since they’d cleared the air between them, after Yumichika’s secret had come out and Ikkaku had eventually accepted it and forgiven him for lying — ever since then they’ve been very affectionate with each other.

Sometimes Yumichika thought it was only his imagination, namely when he was looking at Ikkaku’s back from afar as he faced an adversary, but there were undeniable signs. Ikkaku looked at him with a certain warmth and softness and _pride_ that was absent otherwise, except when looking upon Renji or Yachiru maybe. It hadn’t been like that before everything had been out in the open, but things were different now. When they were alone together, Ikkaku would caress Yumichika’s cheek with his palm sometimes, stroke his hair, and they slept in the same room.

It was this thing that had bloomed between them that they didn’t talk about or act on, but it was very real. Yumichika knew that Ikkaku loved him one way or another — and he loved Ikkaku more than life.

This was what made yesterday so upsetting. Ikkaku’s never lashed out and struck him like that before, and just thinking about it made tears of rage and panic boil up in Yumichika’s throat. Not ever, not in all the many long years they’ve known each other, through all the hardships of the Rukon, the frustration of the Shinō Academy, Ikkaku’s never _hit_ him like that. Even when Ikkaku had been upset when he’d told him about his sword, he hadn’t tried to hurt him.

   
       Maybe this was leftover. Maybe he was still upset but wouldn’t say so.

 _  
_ _‘Nonsense,’_ Ruri scolded. _‘Houzukimaru would have told me so if there were any lingering resentment. He hasn’t said a thing about that silly boy holding any grudge about us.’_

     _‘Of course he hasn’t. Houzukimaru’s always known about you. He loves you. Ikkaku doesn’t.’_

 _‘Well!’_ Ruri sputtered, but didn’t seem to have any particular counterpoint other than to offer his usual harsh comfort — the same rather awkward support and advice he’s been trying to offer ever since they’ve begun to reconcile their differences; he still needed practice.    _‘Stop acting a fool, Yumichika. It doesn’t do to get flustered over these things.’_

Yumichika hung his head and let out a slow breath, dabbing underneath his eyes without ruining his feathers.   

    _‘... There there,’_ Ruri’iro tried, rather unsure of himself. _‘I’m sure it’s not really as black as it seems just now.’  
_

Yumichika isn’t sure if he appreciates the attempt at encouragement, but he doesn’t snipe back at least, which was something.  


He stepped out into the front room to find Ikkaku asleep on the couch, lying unusually straight, his mouth closed. Usually he snored and flung himself out wide, but he lay there quiet. His reiatsu was quiet too, and Ruri noted then with some offense that it seemed that Houzukimaru had closed his door.  


_‘We’re in the dog house, what did you expect,’_ Yumichika thought bitterly. _‘I told you all along, but you had to show your true nature.’_

_‘At least I don’t have to lie to make someone love me.’_

  
  
Yumichika stopped from snorting aloud, but he did roll his eyes and grind his teeth. He and Ruri were still healing their relationship, and it was a slow, _aggravating_ process. A lot of things were still very sore between them, obviously.

He didn’t stay for his usual cup of tea, and left early for work. It was best if he and Ikkaku didn’t see each other just yet. He didn’t understand why Ikkaku had hit him or his strange guiltless behavior after he’d done so, and he wanted to avoid him.

Yumichika was humiliated and hurt, but part of him expected that he’d deserved some sort of retaliation, had always felt he’d gotten off too easily with Ikkaku forgiving him the way he had, had been _waiting_ for something like this to happen, for the other shoe to drop. He had to take what was coming to him with grace and hope Ikkaku would cool down in time.

He held his head up with his usual pride. He’d covered the bruise expertly, and would try to do the same within his memory.

 

. . .

 

Ikkaku woke up very strangely, instantly alert, so much so that it felt as though he’d only closed and opened his eyes.

He sat up slowly and then shifted with a grunt of discomfort. He’d woken up stiff in more than one way, and was out on the couch — and on top of it, he’d woken up without Yumichika, which put him in a bad mood right off the bat. Not to mention he’d had sex dreams, violent sex dreams.

He squeezed and palmed himself in front where he felt tight and achy, and let out an annoyed sigh.

 _‘We’ll feel better if we go kick some asses around, eh, Houzukimaru?’_   He looked to his zanpakutou expectantly, waiting attentively to feel that familiar presence within him, but nothing came.

“... Still asleep, huh,” he dismissed, still not ready to think about it too hard and go into panic over it, not ready to admit what, deep down, he already knew it meant when one can’t feel their zanpakutou. He was sure he’d turn up soon.

It looked like Yumichika was still in a pet if he hadn’t waited for him this morning, which he had to admit stung a little, because for one, he didn’t know what he goddamn _did_ to get him upset, if it was even him he was mad at. He hates it when they’re not on good terms, especially now. They’d been getting along so well lately too…

Things had gotten kind of bad for a while there.     _‘That was my own stupid fault.’_ But it was all in the past now!    

[ It was almost a year ago now](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=trZOY3OqzmQ) that he thought about it, that the whole business with the true nature of Yumichika’s zanpakutou had come to light. He knew now that it was a secret Yumichika had carefully kept for decades on end, and that for a good portion of their friendship, Yumichika had been pretending to be somebody else, wasn’t showing his real self. Yumichika had meant for him _never_ to know.

He’d only ever found out about it because he’d caught him using it, far away in the woods. The first sensation was confusion, wondering for a moment whether Yumichika had achieved bankai after all and was practicing out here alone to surprise him later, or whether he was using kidou in private where he wouldn’t be teased — he was ready to scold him right there, actually, but then Yumichika had turned and seen him too.

Whatever he’d expected, it hadn’t been the expression of utter _dread_ that had come over his face, so intense that Ikkaku knew then that it was something else. He’s never seen Yumichika look that scared.

He covered it up real quick, to his credit. He even tried to lie, to smooth it over, but Ikkaku wouldn’t listen, because whatever people think of him, he wasn’t an idiot, and those iridescent vines looked way too similar to what he’d known Fuji Kujaku to release as for this long. He realized then that Fuji Kujaku was never a peacock’s claws. It was its tail. Of course it was.

   “It’s a kidou blade,” he’d said numbly. “Fuji Kujaku is a kidou blade,” he accused.

“That’s ridiculous. What a stupid thing to say.” Yumichika’d continued trying to deny it, growing more and more desperate, even cruel, in an attempt to throw him off the scent, but it was too late. Ikkaku knew.

“It’s a kidou type,” Ikkaku repeated, setting his jaw, staring him down.

Yumichika must’ve seen that there was no escape, that anything he might say that wasn’t the truth, Ikkaku wouldn’t believe it — because in a high and breathy voice, standing there trembling, he finally admitted, “His true name is Ruri’iro Kujaku. And yes.”

Ikkaku didn’t remember exactly what he’d felt at that moment — whether he’d been very angry, or shocked, or anything. He knew that Houzukimaru had been trying to talk to him, trying to reason with him or something, and he knew that he’d pushed him away, stood there in silence, eyes narrowed and glaring at Yumichika for some time, watching him quake where he stood.

The first thing he said, voice flat, was, “You lied.” Yumichika startled, taking a step back, eyes still wide and face still pale. “And not a little lie, either.” Gritting his teeth when his temper started rearing its head, Ikkaku spat, “You fucking lied. Why did you.”

He watched Yumichika gulp, watched the sweat roll down his forehead, watched his pinprick pupils quiver, but he felt no pity — only disappointment and bitterness; _anger._ “I was afraid,” he whispered. “I thought I couldn’t be in the same squad as you if anyone knew.”

“I’m askin’ why you didn’t tell _me,”_ he grit out.

He took another breath, shaky and pathetic. “I thought you would go away and not come back,” he confessed.

Ikkaku ground his teeth together and burst, _“Fuck!”_  He turned away and stormed off, leaving him there all on his own and ignoring the broken call of his name.

He couldn’t deny he’d felt betrayed, _wronged,_ more than he ever had by Yumichika, and there weren’t many instances where he’d felt that way before, if ever. But he’d thought on it for a long time, why Yumichika hadn’t told him.     _‘Why didn’t he tell me?’_

How could he have kept that secret from him like he didn’t trust him, like he was just any old schmoe who might look down on him for it! Didn’t he know that Ikkaku hasn’t got anyone else but him?!  He felt like such an idiot, being taken for a fucking fool for so many years — and that was why it stung, because Yumichika was his best friend, and Ikkaku had trusted him so deeply that he’d taken him at his word, and this entire time, Yumichika had taken advantage of that trust, knowing it would be easy to lie to him. How could Yumichika have done that to him, huh?

He was livid with Houzukimaru too, cussing up a storm and raging at him, because that guy had goddamn _known_ this entire time, about Fuji-   _Ruri’iro_ Kujaku, and he hadn’t told him a goddamn thing about it.   Both of them, the people he’d trusted most in the whole world, barring the captain, had _lied_ to him, for _decades._

Yumichika has a kidou-type. He’d had it that whole time they’ve been in Seireitei. Why hadn’t he said? He hadn’t had to tell anyone else if he’d wanted to stay in the squad, but he could’ve said something to him — _why hadn’t he?_

Once he’d stopped raging and really pondered that question, he had to accept something he hadn’t wanted to face. Because he knew why, really. Because Yumichika was smart, and he would’ve known that if he’d told him from the start when he’d first achieved shikai, or even if he’d only kept it secret for a few years before getting up the courage to tell him, Ikkaku would’ve been mad, furious in fact, perhaps even _cruel._

Uneasily, Ikkaku had thought of himself ten, even five years ago, and if he wonders whether the man he’d been at the time would’ve accepted Yumichika, he wasn’t sure. In fact, he _knows_ he wouldn’t have.  He hadn’t been the same person in those days. He’d been really stubborn and stuck in his ways, but he’d changed a lot since then, ever since his tower in fake Karakura had crumbled after his defeat and Iba had given him a scolding he’d never forget.

For decades before that, he’d always avoided Houzukimaru’s advice to look inward, to do introspection and examine his fears and weaknesses, dwell on them until he can accept and overcome them. Houzukimaru had asked him to consider that he made a pair with Yumichika’s sword — just _Kujaku,_ he’d called him at the time; Ikkaku had always thought it had just been an affectionate nickname but now he knew it was to keep him in the dark about Ruri’iro’s true nature. The two of them were a pair, and he’d insinuated that it was the same with him and Yumichika.

But Ikkaku was stubborn and proud. He would not accept or think on what Houzukimaru told him, he did not want to think about what this meant for his philosophy of not helping one another in fights, and of seeking a glorious end, struck down by the blade of a worthy opponent. He wanted to remain under Captain Zaraki’s command until his final day, and kept his bankai to himself. And so, his life did not much alter in half a century.

No matter what anyone said, he stuck to his guns.

It wasn’t until he lost and Iba treated him like the disgrace he was that he saw himself clearly. It had been hard, after being strong in his beliefs for so long; he hadn’t wanted to hear that he’d been wrong.

_“I don’t care if you die because you want to hide your strength, but don’t disobey orders because of that. Your stubbornness cost us in battle. So long as you’re in the Gotei, you must obey orders even if means quashing your stubbornness and pride.”_

_“Iba, I know that! But I-!”_

_“If you die, you can be replaced. That’s what you’re thinking somewhere in the back of your mind, and that’s why you act so carelessly as to let yourself be defeated.”_

  At the time, he didn’t know why it had made him defensive, but it had. It had made him furious.    

   _“Wait a minute… I don’t have to take this… You think I don’t care that I was defeated?”_

_“Am I wrong?”_

_“You bastard!”_ His immediate response was denial. He hadn’t even the words to tell Iba he was wrong; he just got furious, because Iba was _right_ somehow, and he _hated that._ All he could do was push it away, deny it, retaliate with violence. It wasn’t just fury, it was _offense_ — how dare he stand there and think he can look down on him like that, how did he think he could talk to him like that, huh?

Hearing it said plainly like that, it really got to him — having someone make light of the passion he had for his ideals. He was a very stubborn man, and to hear that he’d been stubborn about the wrong things… he couldn’t cope with it, not right then.

 _“Then get stronger!”_ Iba had told him after kicking him to the dirt again when Ikkaku had come at him. _“If you want to be stubborn, then you’ve got to get stronger. If you want to fight, you’ve got to win, even if you die.    That is what it means to stick to your guns.’_  


  Ikkaku took that really deep.  


It hadn’t all happened right away, to be sure, but things had been different after that. _He_ was different. He felt he’d grown as a man. It’d taken him a long time, longer than it should have, perhaps, but he’d grown up.    He didn’t feel that instinctive outrage at the idea of fighting side by side with Yumichika, didn’t say shit about it when Yumichika cleared the way for his fights sometimes with kidou, he didn’t fight so recklessly anymore, not wanting to die pointlessly when he could keep on living to the next fight, a better fight — wasn’t that what Zaraki Taichou had taught him when they’d first met?   Why had it taken him so long to see it? Why has he been so stubborn, what had he been afraid of?...  
  


    Yes, he knew with certainty that he wouldn’t have accepted Yumichika before all of that.  
  


When he thought about it, he was ashamed. And he’d realized that he shouldn’t be mad. With the way he’d acted, there was no way Yumichika could have thought he could be his true self. How he must have worried, keeping that to himself, how he must have suffered - and all for someone who never even appreciated it.

After that, once the anger had cooled, Ikkaku had come to him. They hadn’t spoken since the reveal, and the silent tension between them was putting everyone on edge for weeks. But at last, he thought it was time, and had sought Yumichika out, and they’d had a long talk. He’d felt guilty then, to see Yumichika looking so small and meek, such a mess, so defeated and sad, fiddling with his hands. His usually proud gaze was cast to the floor in shame.

He didn’t know why he had to say it, but Ikkaku told him, “I’m not mad.”  Yumichika wouldn’t speak, and Ikkaku had shifted uncomfortably, not knowing where this left them.

  
   “Are you gonna’ say anything?...”

“I don’t deserve to beg your forgiveness,” Yumichika wrenched out, “And there’s no apology great enough that you should have to accept it.”  

He’d realized then that Yumichika thought he was going to pull away, that he was through being his friend. He thought that now that he was found out, Ikkaku hated him.

And he’s mad again, not at Yumichika, but at the situation, because he wished more than ever that Yumichika had told him, had _trusted_ him to warm up to the idea, but he knew that he wouldn’t have come around, in all likelihood — and that’s what made him mad, because he didn’t see any other way that this could have gone.

Ikkaku sighed. “I’d like to say you shoulda’ told me, but I probably would’ve reacted as badly as you’re imagining. M’ sorry for bein’ such a dick. I’ve done you wrong.” He pulled on his ear a little. “I guess this is why you never let me teach you to get your bankai, huh.”

“...” Yumichika lifted his gaze a little. “We never got along, because of how I hid him away. There was no point.”

They stood there for some time, and Ikkaku at last cleared his throat and folded his arms, grimacing. Yumichika scuffed his foot, muttering, “I suppose things can’t go back to how they were…”

Ikkaku cocked his head incredulously. “Well no. But that ain’t bad.” Yumichika met his eyes at last. Ikkaku offered a smile. “Look, I’ve always been an open book with my secrets ta’ you. I’m just glad we’re even now. This way I can see your true self.”   Yumichika still looked hesitant, cautious, not seeming to accept that after hiding it for so long, that things were really going to be okay.

By the end of it, Ikkaku put his arm around Yumichika under the moonlight, and Yumichika put his face to his shoulder and closed his eyes, body heaving with relief. Ikkaku could feel his hand shaking as he placed it on his back, digging the long nails in.

And everything seemed to make sense all of a sudden. Houzukimaru hummed contentedly within his heart, and something else was there too, something he’d never seen before but that felt very familiar.  


     _‘What’s this feeling? . . . Houzukimaru… Was this what you meant about us being a pair?’_

 _‘Took you long enough.’_  


“Will you show him to me?” he’d asked.  Yumichika picked his head up.

“You want to see him?” he muttered uncertainly, but Ikkaku had talked him into it eventually.

          Whatever he’d expected of Yumichika’s soul, it was exactly that: bone-chilling, cruel, and beautiful.

 

And ever since, he hasn’t looked at him quite the same, it’s true, but he didn’t think that was a bad thing. Everyone’s always teased him that he had a soft spot for Yumichika, if they could get away with it without him throwing down the gauntlet — and it might be true that that spot had gotten a little softer afterwards. They’d always been close, but even more so now.

He’d resolved after all of that, to be a better friend, make sure Yumichika knew he liked having him around, make sure he didn’t regret showing his true self. He loved Yumichika, didn’t he? So why shouldn’t he be sweet on him, huh?

  It didn’t feel right, after all of that, that they should ever have a disagreement. Ikkaku huffed. He got up and got ready, then kicked the door shut behind him, and started the day cranky.

Ikkaku could admit that he was an irritable person sometimes, but he still had a modicum of human control and reasonable boundaries… usually. Not today though. Today he felt _brutally_ irritated.

Yumichika wasn’t there at morning drills, which further irked him, and after spending all morning viciously shouting at his subordinates, Ikkaku wandered out from Division Eleven, figuring walking around for awhile until he cooled his head might be a good idea.

He ran into Renji there, who grinned and greeted him when he spotted him. Instinctually, the red ponytail and the bright smile registered as _his boy,_ and Ikkaku straightened up, mood improving, but when Renji raised his hand and called out, “Hey, Ikkaku-san,” Ikkaku narrowed his eyes and frowned, first scrutinizing him and wondering what it was about him that was bugging him — looking at him fucking _annoyed_ him.

His sharp stare soon turned into an aimless gaze, the buzzing quiet that was still echoing in his head intensifying. He looked at Renji’s red hair — redder than blood, it was dark like wine, dark like the blood that traveled to the heart because it was out of air… _out of air as one is slowly asphyxiat_ _e̟̩d̤_ _an̙_ _d_ _f͝u̕cked_ _ų̣nc̝o̤n͞s͕̗̘cio̥̺͓u̠̤s̛̟̜ͅ.̤̩_

Ikkaku offered Renji a grimace when he walked up to him. Renji didn’t seem bothered by his foul mood, as jovial as ever. He invited him to walk with him for a while — he was heading to Division 13.

“The fuck would I do that for?” Ikkaku spat, crass and mean, the next moment feeling sort of dazed and distracted. He vaguely noticed that Renji’s smile had faded.

“Well… You don’t have to…”  Ikkaku shook his head.

“Maybe just a little,” he muttered, and Renji brightened up again.

As they walked together and Renji chattered about Ichigo or something or other, Ikkaku looked at the tattoos on his neck, eyes honing in on them and sticking there — he completely zoned out staring at the marks and started imagining the needles going in, the bleeding.

Or what about burning them, burning every inch of it until they were seared pink and bleeding all over his chest and arms and back. That’d probably break him, his flesh sizzling in the open air like that, and once he goes, he could pull out his fingernails one at a time, leaving bloody stubs behind, and when he collapsed and left his dead-ass in the air — oh yes.

He’d like to cause pain like that, witness that sort of senseless brutality.  


    He’d like to viola̿̂̍̐t̋̈̈ͥ́̈́ͭ҉ȩ.

 

. . .

 

Renji found Ikkaku without Yumichika that afternoon, which explained away his weird mood. His senpai got antsy when Yumichika was elsewhere. Renji knew well enough not to take any of Ikkaku's grumpiness to heart or let it ruin the high he was on.

Ichigo was down with Rukia right now — he was going out there to meet him. He was pretty excited on that score actually.  
  


        _‘Have you still not defeated him?’  
_

_‘. . . Who?’_

_‘That boy. Ichigo,’_ Zabimaru rumbled, winding around him curiously.  


_‘What’s with the ‘that boy?’ Don’t act like he’s a stranger after so many years,’_ Renji replied in confusion. He knows it’s all he’s talked about for months on end. Zabimaru knows how much he admires Ichigo and enjoys his company.     _‘And don’t ask questions you know the answers to! You know everything I do!’_

      _‘It is true he has not been our enemy for some time, although I’m still up for the fight with Zangetsu,’_ he noted, which only made Renji more suspicious.

_‘Fight with Zangetsu? What are you talking about?’_

_‘You want to defeat him and show him you’re the stronger one. Would it not be satisfying, to get on top of-’_

_‘Wh-!’_ Renji yelped, realizing what _fighting_ was a metaphor for and that Zabimaru’s been screwing around this whole time.      _‘Zabimaru! What the hell, that’s dirty! Oh, quit laughing!’_

 _‘Only teasing, little one.   Are you going to tell him your feelings?’_ Renji sighed at that, a smile slipping back over his face in a second flat.

 __  
_‘Yeah. I think I am.’_  
  
  


“Y’know Senpai, Ichigo’s come to visit Seireitei,” Renji shared with Ikkaku happily. He told himself that he was only saying this because he was certain it would cheer Ikkaku up, but in all honesty, he’s probably been telling this to anyone who would listen for weeks now. “He’s gonna’ be staying over with me.”

“Eh, good for you, man,” Ikkaku muttered absently, sword balanced over his shoulders.

“Yeah,” Renji noted. “Maybe I’ll finally get the guts to make a move this time.” He said it rather sheepishly, pulling on his ear and looking away, but knew that was the type of thing he could tell his senpai. Ikkaku had always been really cool and supportive of him, and he was sure that, what with how in love he was with Yumichika, he could confide in him that he had feelings for Ichigo.

The fact that Ikkaku couldn’t keep a secret was a minor detail — that can act as the extra incentive he needed to actually go through with it and tell Ichigo before Ikkaku told everybody else.

Whatever he’d been expecting, whether a grunt of disinterested acknowledgement or a slap to the shoulder and some verbal encouragement, that wasn’t what he got. Instead, Ikkaku’s eyes snapped to him and grew incredibly sharp and cold, his face filled with a rage that Renji’s never had directed towards him before.

“Don’t say shit like that to me,” Ikkaku spat. “Fuckin’ faggot,” he growled, and repeated again that he’d better not say shit like that to him again if he wasn’t trying to start something.

Renji’s face fell, and he couldn’t deny that coming from Ikkaku, that hurt, but, well, he wasn’t exactly wrong, was he, so Renji just shifted rather uncomfortably.

“Don’t let Yumichika-san hear you talkin’ like that,” he mumbled, and looked away, feeling disappointed somehow.  
  


_‘Faggot,’_ he thought with dismay.  


     Zabimaru snorted and sulked a bit. _‘Faggot,’_ the Nue repeated back with contempt.  
  


“I don’t care what the little queer hears me say, we’ll see what he does if he has a problem with it!” Ikkaku snarled, and whoa, he was _mad._

Renji was taken aback then, because he didn’t understand what was going on with him, why Ikkaku was saying this stuff. Were he and Yumichika fighting or something? That didn’t make any sense though, because when those two fought, Ikkaku never got like this.

 Very plainly, he accused, “What’s wrong with you, Ikkaku?”

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed and a little irked, because he had a soft spot in his heart for Yumichika. Ikkaku had his admiration and respect as a mentor and a friend, but Yumichika had been there for him too over those forty years of training, and it pissed him off when people talked shit about him. It had never occurred to him that one of those people would be Ikkaku.

Ikkaku sort of stopped, looking at him for no more than a second with this confused expression, the kind one got when they’d walked into a room looking for something and promptly forgotten what it was. “What?” he hummed. He looked around then, seeming distracted.

“Hey, have you seen Yumichika today? Haven’t seen him all morning.” Scratching the back of his head a little, Ikkaku muttered, “Think he’s mad at me…”

Renji just stared at him, an eyebrow raised, because Ikkaku had been calling Yumichika a queer like two seconds before, talking about him with absolute revulsion and a sick undertone in his voice, and now he sounded like himself again.

Zabimaru made a noise, the one he always did when he shook himself after his fur had stood up. _‘He smells like death,’_ he noted.  


_‘You’re paranoid,’_ Renji dismissed.  


“Uh, yeah… I saw him running reports down to the Eighth earlier…”

 

_‘Like a rotten heart.’_

 

. . .

 

“Hm,” Ikkaku noted. “I’ll try and catch’m’ later.”  The Eighth, huh… “Hey, haven’t seen Hanatarou in a while. How is the little guy? That kid’s okay.”

Ikkaku flexed his hand. His wrist hurt. Damnit, it ached.

“Whatever,” Renji said, grimacing, and Ikkaku glanced to him, irritated at being ignored, but was quickly distracted with a piece of gossip. “There was a murder last night, did you hear?”

“Fuck, no kidding?”

“Yeah, guy from the Seventh maimed his roommate right in the barracks while everyone else was asleep,” Renji sighed, shaking his head. “I heard it was a fuckin’ _mess.”_

“Shit, that’s crazy,” Ikkaku murmured.

“Yeah, keep an ear open, we don’t know much yet,” he said with that serious voice he got when he was being lieutenant and not just Renji. “Iba’s mortified, of course, ‘cause he knew the guy an’ thought he was of good character and everything.”

Ikkaku grimaced. Iba always got that way about stuff. Guy took himself really seriously.  “I bet he is.”

Renji eventually parted ways with him, hurrying off to meet his friends. “See you later, Senpai! Hope you come outta’ your mood.”

“Go’wan, you little brat,” Ikkaku hollered after him, getting a laugh for his trouble. He grinned for a second, but soon went back to brooding.

He tried training to pass the time till Yumichika showed his face, but his sprained wrist made it difficult. It felt like he’d punched a goddamn wall and had forgot about it.

Yumichika did show his face a little later, but only long enough to poke his head in and tell him to simmer down: _‘No one can work with your reiatsu spewing like a volcano.’_

Ikkaku grumped about. His wrist hurt, his reiatsu was bad too, Yumichika was right. He hated going to the Fourth, but being unable to hold or swing a sword for any amount of time was unacceptable, so he decided to go. He wouldn’t mind getting Houzukimaru checked out either. It’d be cool to visit Hanatarou besides — little guy was cool. He’d go after work.  


He left the training ground and went into his office to [ meditate for awhile](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9ECdNuzvrPc). 

  
He tried for a long time to talk to Houzukimaru, who still has not said a single word to him since yesterday. He made it into his inner world after a while and had a look around, but Houzukimaru’s cave was dark and empty. What’s more was that it was eerily quiet. He shouted and called, but there was nothing, not even an echo of his own voice bouncing back.

He felt ragged and hungry, and as he sat there all alone, dark thoughts began to creep in.

  
    ‘I want to violate. I want to harm. No, not kill, killing isn’t enough. Something much more personal, something far more depraved than murder. I want to v̵i̶o̷l̵a̴t̵e̵, and I will. It doesn’t matter who. It doesn’t matter who, but I will make them kneel and acknowledge that I have won, that I have utterly defeated them and gained p̩̮̭̗̩o̟͈̞͍ͅw̘͈er̼̬̹̰͇̳͙ over their every move.’

“......”

 _‘I want to violate until I am atop a pedestal of defiled bodies and my hakama is soaked in blood. I want a heart. Hearts beat, and until I find one, I have to scream to fill the silence. H͍e̹̳ar̰͓͉t͙͓s̟̜ l͓̲͓̹̙o̩͈ͅv̪̠e̥̣͓,̞͍͕͈ an͚̲d̰͍͓ͅ ͉̬̝̠w̥i̙̦t̻h̬o̻̰u̠̗t ̭̰̩͍̤͓̰o̲̱̳̩̱͍̤n̹̯̩e,͈ ͔͚̜̲̠I͇̳̫̝ ͕̤̤͓͓͓͙m͉̥u̜̖̯̖s̫t ̱̥͕p͚̻̖͖̻r̜͓o̙̭c̤u͍̜r̪̮̙̘ͅe̗̖ ͅi͎̭̝͇t̟̠͖̫̗̥ w͍̳i̠t͈h͖͚̻̝̬ ̝͔̲̱̙̫̹th̹̟̖e̥͉͖̬͍ o̟̖̣̠̮p̖̖̯͎͍p͇̬o̟̼͍̝s̻ḭ̻ͅt̫̰ḙ̭ ̱͔̬of̻̭̼ ͍̯̲͕̦͕l̖͔̠̪͔͕o̟v̫e̳͎̭͉.’_  


“......”  


_‘And so I must defile, I ̡must ̛v҉i̴olat̸e,̛ ̧I ̡w͢i̛l̡l g͢et t͏h̸e͜ h̸e̡a̴r͜ţ thro̶ugh̸ the҉ ultimate act ̕o̶f̸ lov͢e gơn͘e ̷wŗo̢ng,_ _o̢̘͉͕̟̟n͔͙̟ ̯̦͚̤̫͎a̝̲͔͚̜ s̺͓͝w̛e͏̜a̙̺t̠͎͍͉̪-͓͉̱s̶̙p̤̺̠͘o̢̘͉͕̟̟i͠l̝̥̲̠̲ę̩̻̣̗̞d̹͙͖̰̺̰̳ ̸͈͔̰͖b͍̺͍͎̤͔͙ẹ̺͈͍̳̟d͓͚̖͔ ̳ͅo͓͈̻̱̲̬͎͡f͇̰͟ ̧͔̻̟̜̠ͅf̭̟͉͚͈͕̲i̘̘̗̹̪̣ͅl̤̳̺̺͞t̘̫̘ẖ̪͖͍͇̝.̧͖̠̬͍̯’_

  


_‘̪̪̫̲͠Ṳ͈̤n̙̮͎̰t̬̫i͓̦̝̫͠ͅl̬͈̥ ̥̩͈͈Iͭ ̰̦̬̜̠h͇̣͟a̸͙͍̦̣̳v̻̮͉e̜̖̗ ̶̩̫͙ǫ͚̼̥̰n͔͙̟e͏̫͎̗, t̳̤ͧͣ̒̑͢ȟ̛̦̅̈̎ͤ͊̚i̥̹̳̍ͭ̔̇͗̚͡s͉̏́ ̱̹̮͎̎̃̍I͕̝̬̥̜̝ͭ̿̈́ͣ͋ͥͧ͢ ̸̝̗́̑̌̒ͣ̚m̬̭̝͛ͦ̂u͉̞s͔̟̹̖̏̍̄ͭ̑̑t̨̜͇̺̘̍ͩ ̶͂̈́ͬͭ̚d̉͂ͪ͂ǒ̝̲̞͓ͯ.̢̥͎͓̔_

  


                “... Houzukimaru… Come out,” he croaked.

 

Who was an easy target, who will be the easiest? Who can he take the heart out of? He had to violate, yes, a woman first. More easily cornered and overpowered, more easily beaten down. Fist his hand in her hair and slap her face, and as she was dazed, he could rip her shirt open and grab her breast, bite so hard that he tasted blood.

_‘When she screams, then I’ll know, then it will echo and I’ll feel the heart. Yes. Yes, I am the king in this place and you are the slave, and slaves are dirt. Rape, yes, I have to, a woman first. Any woman, just let her look in my eyes an̛d kn͢o͟w ͏wh͢at ̴I ҉will dǫ.  I̡f̝͖ ͇̳̥̻̦͈̻͢s̮͎̟h̶̻̠̹̫̥̬e̜̘͍̮̞̟͉͢ ̱̖̱̦͙̻̘͡h̫̗a͎s̼̦̰̼̠ ̺̯̠̟̞̱̱h̕e̝̺̬̥̱̜̩a͕̜̳̫͎ͅr̸̖͈͕t̨̞͔͉͉͕ e͉n̗o̳͚u̬̜̜͍͠g̛̮̱̳͔̮h̴͇͕ ͖̞͔͇̳̹̳t̸͕̖̣̣o̝̲͚̫͎̗̤͝ ̙̱̱̣̝t̜r͏u̲͇͇s̴͇̥͉t̜̻̝̦̘ ̠a̘͉̤̞͙n͎d̖̹ ̼̭̙̠̮̩̟͞n͓̝̝̱̯̟̩ợ̟̺̖̳t̢͉ ̹̰̱͘t̕o̢̯̞̤̟ ̶͖r̘u͖n̸͈͈,̧͈͇̰̱̦̤̤ ͕̪̲̬̫̬I̤̣͖̦̝̺̦͝’̧̤͖͓̜̼l҉̟̹̭̲̲̙̫ḽ ̤̻h͓̟̖̯͍͈͟a̩͕͕̞͙͜v͚̱͖̤͙ę̺͙̟͈̦̮͖ ̖̠̭̝̰̜̠he̼r͏.̲̣͜’_

 

   “Houz… Houzuk…”  


_‘͟If ҉she ҉d̨o͡es e̷s̨c̵a͞pȩ, a͢ll͝ ͏the b͡ett̸er̶ ͘- I will h͠unt̡ he̶r͜ dơw͏n in͜ ̧t̵he ͡d͝ar̛k̵est nįg̵ht wh̕ere ̵no onę ̛w̸il̢l hear͝ t͞h͞a͘t͟ h̕eart’s ̧last̵ be̶a͞ting̢, ̡w̹̟͕͢ͅh͔̺͎͕͉͝e͖̯͈̠͉̞͔r̩̖̞͟e͓ n̖o̢͈̖̙̙̳̙ ̦̟o̺͢n̙e̢̩̺ ̢̹̭̞w̛̱͔̫̻̼i҉͍͇̺̗̳l̘̱̺̰͕ͅl̢̹ ̭̟̙͝h̯͞e̴̻̪͎͚a̛͈r̳̻̝͢ ͠m̱̬̬̳̺̺̟e̦̫̪̤͖̰ ̤̜̖̺̯̤̟c͈̹̫o̥ns̮͇̙̥͜u̬͜m̢̲̝͔̥͖e̸̗͎̥ ̩̳̤̞͕͚i͢t̯̠͜ ͙͓̗̤͇͈w͍̱̫̖ho̮ͅͅl̞̯̪̠e̫͙̺̭̮͜.̥̬͚͟’̲͠”_

 

There came a sudden clatter outside and he was drawn out of his trance. He was still sitting on the floor in his office; the sun had since set. Houzukimaru was yet silent in his hands, and his chest felt tight.

How long had he been sitting here trying? Had he fallen asleep? He didn’t think he'd ever gotten into his inner world — it was closed off. Something had felt strange. Even now as he looked down at his sword in his hands, it seemed… empty somehow.

Aww, what was the matter with his Houzukimaru?

“Ts’ okay, buddy,” he whispered, his hand on the hilt as he stood up. “I’ll grow a pair and just get it over with. Just don’t tell Yumichika.”

He stretched and figured maybe he should head to the Fourth now. He’s been feeling really strange lately. He wanted to be around people, besides. It was far too quiet all by his lonesome. The silence, the inner stillness was just all-encompassing and was driving him insane.  


He’d welcome anything, even a scream, just so that he didn’t have to be in the q̢ui̶et anymore.


	3. Chapter 3

Ikkaku headed down to the Fourth Division, not a usual occurrence, but he’s been feeling strange lately anyways, so what’s one more strange thing.

He made it into the front lobby and then had to file some paperwork to document his injury, since he was coming in for an injury after the fact of the battle being a few days ago. He didn’t remember how he’d hurt his wrist, probably had rolled on it weird when he’d been sleeping or something, so he just writes down some bullshit or other.

He glanced up when he heard Matsumoto’s voice and saw her coming down the hall, talking with Unohana. She must be getting another hangover cure. When Ikkaku saw them, he stopped writing and stood up straight, [ staring over at them. ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lWpkoc9cJeg)

His fingers twitch at his sides. Ohhh, the thought was there, heavy and dark and swelling through his brain like a thick and humid fog. He didn’t move to do anything to them, just standing there and grabbed himself in front, squeezing his erection.

 _‘Think about that, eh? Having your cock down her throat, those pretty lips around it, her eyes all bruised up and bloody and scratched, maybe dangling. Maybe you can fuck her eye-socket too, get your dick wet with blood and fuck her skull - no̵,҉ ͢n̸ot ͞unt͜il͜ ̕yo̵u’͡r͘e ͘do͏ne c͠hoki͢ng ͢he҉r ̷o̸n̢ ͝y̢o̶u̢r d͠ic̴k.’_  
  


He let out a hot ragged breath, slowly licking his lips.

      _‘If she bites, gouge her eyes out and roast her body on a spit and fuck her with it. The other one too, she’ll die with a scream in her throat and it will never come out, even as you rip open her chest and feel the meat on your hands… Yes… I̧ will fi͜n̸d ̶h̡er͡ heart a͢nd ̕fęa͏şt͢. ̢ I̜̭̹̮̭̪̤ w͖i͙̕l͏͎̞̲̙̯̹̻l̲ ͙͖͖͕͍̻̹n͖͕̯͟ḛ̕v̛͍̹̙̰̘̘e̵̜̜̞r̻̣̝̻̩ͅ ̴̳̣̠b̹͓̝e̡̩̳ ͖wh͔̺̤̤͕̤o̥͚̝̪͖͚̹l̷̞̜e̮̻̰͓͠ ͏̤̪͙̮ư͚͚̹̗n̴̙̗͍̲͓̝t͞i͕̭l̢̜͓̟͙̦ ͙̬̳̻I̝͖̯̖̻’̸̙̖͇̲̣v͕ḛ̙͈͎̩͇ͅ ̗͇̝̬̰͟f͖ͅo̱̠u͏̯̝̜̦̖n̗d̡̻͕͓ ̯̟̩a̴ ̜̪̙͉͕̟h̝̞̩ͅe̦̟͚̰̬̫a͟r̶̗̜̺̜̗͎ṭ̷͉͕…’͔̮̗̘̱̣ͅ_

 

The murderous urge calmed then, teetering on the brink.

_̕‘N҉o… ͠n̕ei̧th̢e͞r̨ ͏of̴ th̶ese h͜ave ͠h̸ęarts.̡ ̸T͞h̕ey’͜r͏e ̧nơ g͞ood͝.͠  ͟ ͢ ̛ ͏ ̨ ̧ ̵ ͟ ̡Keep͠ loo͡king͢, ̛h͡a̴ve̸ t͡o̶ ̷ke͢ep͏ l̷o̢o̧k̶ing.̡’_

 

Ikkaku blinked and looked away, checking his documentation. Shit, he had to stop dozing off like that. He rubbed his eyes and tried to focus.

“Oi, Matsumoto,” he called when Rangiku complained again of a pounding headache. “Have you tried tomato juice? That’s what they use in the Living World.”

She seemed to consider it, hands on her hips. “Really?”

“Ichigo said so.”

“I’ll try it then.”   

Unohana smiled at them both. Ikkaku grimaced back. He’s pretty sure that his captain might have a crush on her. A while back, he would’ve thought the whole thing sacrilegious, to be involved with someone from the Fourth with a kidou sword, but well, since Yumichika had come out about Ruri’iro Kujaku, a lot of things have changed, and it wasn’t inconceivable that the unthinkable could come true.

   He snorted at the thought.   _‘Taichou on a date.’_  

After handing over his paperwork to the healer at the counter, he requested Hanatarou, and after insisting, the receptionist actually left the desk and went to hunt the guy down. When he was found, the little guy came out all timid and polite and shit, and Ikkaku followed him to a room and let him tend his injury. His stuttering was kind of annoying, but he was okay, that kid, and Ikkaku shot the breeze, blabbing while Hanatarou renewed his medical record and flashed lights in his eye and checked inside his ears.

      He asked about Houzukimaru too.

“Do you think he might’ve gotten cracked or chipped?” Ikkaku muttered after mentioning Houzukimaru’s strange silence.

“Ah, sword’s just need to rest sometimes,” Hanatarou hummed absently, holding Ikkaku’s wrist and asking him to flex and twist it, checking for any residual pain.

“Yeah, mine more than most,” Ikkaku grumbled.

He meant to tell him about the weird feelings too, but found he couldn’t put it into words.

After catching up, he went to file his discharge form with Iemura — Hanatarou had said he’d made a trip back to the supply room, just go in and find him — but he found the lieutenant in there instead, Kotetsu. Ikkaku walked into the room and saw that [ she was alone.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gj4X2dacx14)  


He stopped in his tracks when he saw her, his mouth filling up with saliva and his cock getting hard almost immediately. He wants b͠loo̢d.

 

It took about half a second for him to come to the conclusion that she’s perfect.

              It͟’s̵ ̷h̨e̕r.̶ S̭̭h͉e͍̥̞̠’̛̣̠ṣ͘ͅ ̻̻t̡͇h͍̤̺̺͎̹̲e͈͚͕̰̞̹͙ ҉̝̦̩o̵̯͓n̕e͈͉̥̥.͕̹͇̞̜͈ ̹̳̝̘͜  
  


“Yes?” she says absently, perusing the shelves for some supplies, but she didn’t turn around, didn’t look at him.

Ikkaku closed the door behind him and came up to her silently, and it takes only a moment for him to grab her throat in one hand, the other one pressing over her mouth and nose. It’s so fast that he didn’t feel her gasp or startle for almost a full second, but it was too late for her to struggle already.

He was suffocating her and holding her still, clenching his hand into a fist around her neck, his other hand, hungry, desperate, feeling up her front. He threw her sword to the side, out of reach, and in that moment, she began thrashing violently. He released her throat and she took a breathy gasp, only for him to clamp his hand over her mouth again, pinching her nose shut.

Ikkaku grinned wildly, her struggling felt good against his dick. He rubbed his erection against her back, thrusting on her and pressing her to the shelf. She let out a choked squeal into his hand each time he did, and he began laughing in her ear, elated.

With a final desperate thrash, she broke free, and began gasping and coughing. Ikkaku had underestimated her; she had turned out to be unexpectedly strong, and an even greater surprise, without taking even a moment to recover, she immediately fired a kidou blast.

Somehow, he never expected that sort of thing; he’d been in Division Eleven for too long. He wasn’t giving up so easily though — he was going to get what he wanted.

After a bit of fighting, he got her. She seemed to freeze up in panic then, and all she did was scream and hit him as he cornered her and held her tight against him.

“Get off me! Stop it!” she cried, voice raspy and cracked and afraid.

 

  
     H͚̩̺̞̺͙͊ͯͮͧe͓̪̘͛͂ͅ ḽ̩̯̥̩o͖̱̣͐̐͗̈͌̎͗v͋̏̎̂͛̋̄͏͇̝̤e̹͋͂̔̈̓͝d͕̪͈̞̹̣̿̊̑͂͋́͂͢ t̟̘̔͝h͍͔͉̣͉̼̿̊ͮͨ͑͆ͫ͜ȋ̮͇ͪͩ͌ŝ̛.̴͔̙̳ͣͤ̂̂́̂̃ ̲̗̯̜͉̗͎

 

He began laughing wildly. He grabbed her breasts, pushed them apart and then bit her right there in the middle of her chest, yes, _right here, he can feel the_ _h̸̥̳̱̩e̖ḁ̟̙͕͈͍͙r̵̹͇t̨̘̤̱̺.̖̼͉͎̘̼̦_

 

He didn’t get much farther than that, because someone came to ruin everything, came to try and stop him. That blonde with the glasses burst in and pulled him off before he could tear into her.

“What do you think you’re doing, you bastard?!” he barked, heaving for breath. She’s in the corner, turning away towards the wall and covering herself, pulling her clothes around her chest. He’s red in the face, spitting mad. “Get up!” he shouted, kicking him until he stood.

“You-! I’m going to make sure you spend the rest of your sorry life in the Maggot’s Nest! You’re _sick!_ I’ve always said you Eleventh Division men are sick!”

His words are of no consequence. Ikkaku wasn’t listening. He wanted to rape her, he wanted to rape her, he’d been _so close_ , he wanted to see someone’s dying breath, he had to hold a heart in his hands. He needed a heart.  


 

_̡̠̩͔̬̦̠ͪ̍̍ͯͅ ͇̦͉͈̩̆̋̄͐̓̑‘̀ͧ́͋̾̂ͥI̦͉̅̓̅͑ͦͫ̄͢ ͖̮̩̝̥̑̈ͧ͊̉ẅ̖͔̱̱̣͚̂̆a̿ͣ̍̔͒n̩̯͙̘͍̒t̺̪̪̫͒́̌̅̽̐ ̠ͮ̓͝t̹͕̮̥̙̭̀oͧͤ̔ͣͮͥ҉̦̬͎̦ͅ ̶̝̐̃̇̃̀v͎̠̏̄ͅį͕̪̟̭͔͎͚̏̅o̷̠̅ͪ͆ͨlͪ̓ͪ̌̊a͉͍̜͛̋t͍̦̣͍ͤͣ̈ͥe̷̖̱̩͈̠ͬ͑ͧͅ.̩̗̙̥̖͖̉̋͋ ̙̪̏I̝̬̯͈̠͚ͤ̈̊̈́̍͠ ͦ̅̆ͯ̉͏̖̙̗̪̠͔͈ẅ̤͔͉̼̙͙́̍ͯ̿̿ͪa̺̩͉̻͎̲͂̓ͦ̔ͅn̫͉̈́̽͊ͯ̔ͫt̪̖̯̙̪̗̭ͬͤ̽̑ͣ̔ ̷̥̋ͅt̡̺̥͇̪͇̤͋o̲̝̻̭͕̼͂͐ͩ̋ ͎̦̤̖̱͒̊̂͒̊v̘̝̪̰̝̯̉̏͊ͭ͌̐̽͟ͅi͓͇͕͓͛̀͐͛̚ö͙̐l͕̉a̙͚͈͍ͯt͏̖̦͕̭ḙ̶̍.͙̤̦̣͆̆ I̱͍̾ͦ ̷̖̈ͮ̀̏̃w̩̻͌̌̄͡a͙͆́̓ṋ͎̫͍̦̦͛͑͑ͨ͒̎ͅt̖̹̙͜ ̦̭̲̮̲̀͂ͅt͑̆ͤͦ͠o̡͓͓̹̍́ͥͨͯͅ ̶̺͎̬̭͖̋v̵̯̳͉̯͈̺́ͮ̿̆̍i̿̽ͣ҉̯̙̟o̻̤̤̦̎̀l̘͙̰̼̫͗̍̾ͭ̈́̋̀a̵̹̼̘͙̺ͤẗ́ͪ͏̜̺̙̞eͦͯ͛̑͐͐͗.̖̟̮̹̜̺’͓͎͖̤̜͈͈ͤ̌͂͐͒̊̒_

 

 _̷ ̵‘It ͢do͘e̡s̵n’t͘ ̸mąţte͝r who͝,̛ ͘I ͟juşt ͞ha͝v͠e҉ ͝t͞o v̷io̸l̢ate ̧unti͢l͞ ̶the̷i͡r le҉gs are ̡r͡e͟d ̵w̕i͞th͢ ̴bl͘ood a͟nd t͞hei͘r voc҉al̡ c͡ord͏s are͘ ̛s͝h̕o̢t ̷f͜r̶o̧m ͏s̴cre͜a̵min҉g͟.̧ ̡I jus͠t ͝h̡a̷v͠e҉ t͡o ͞s̷ee t̢ha̶t͘ ͡mom͡en͘t ̵o̵f ̵t͜hei̸r͘ ̡la̛st͝ ̴b̶re͘ath ąnd̵ se̵e ̶the̸ir e͢y͟e҉s̵ ͠g̨o ͢d̶ar̛k…͞ ͉_ _Y̧͖̹̜̜̰͓͓e͕̜̝̦͉̥s̟̣̝̮͎̤,̜̤̝̹̥̩͙͝ ̧̤̝̠̗̟̘̬a̖̫͟ṉ̷̙͖͙̠̟͙d̼̝̕ ̝̻̭̬t̬̲͘h̼̣̝̗͠e̤̘̹n͙̟͓̲͉͖͔…̢͓̣̗ ͏͖͔͕̪a͚͞n̜̮̰̗͎͈̹d̮̮͇̣̤ t̨̲̜̲̺h̬̪̤͉͉͢e͕͢n̖͍͝…͈̮͓’̱̼̘̩̮̣_

  
  


      “And then?” he whispered aloud.

 

Ikkaku put his hand to his forehead and squinted, and then looked up at Kotetsu again, who was shrinking back next to Iemura, tense and frightened. They’re both staring at him, wide-eyed, one in rage, one in apprehension, in terror.

 _She’s scared,_ he realized immediately. She’s always been so shy and gentle, from what he could tell. She was holding her yukata closed, wrapping it tight under her neck. Ikkaku could see scratch marks there, and on her face too. He looked down at his hands; there’s thread under his nails.

  
_  
_    ‘I did it.’          It vaguely registered that yes, it had been him. Must have been.

 

For a moment, the feeling mounted again. He wanted to rape her. He wanted rape both of them. He wanted to rape them and kill them and then rape their corpses again.       

 

 _‘Yes, rape her. Rape her in front of him and make him join in, and when he does, you can jam his head on his sword and fuck his body.   Th͢at̵ will make ͜me_ _k̷i_ _n_ _g̶. T̖͚̪̘h͖a̛̫̥̬t͉̹̣̼̬ ̨̰̫̠w͉͙̗͍͙̠i͙̰̲͕̲̬l̙̳͇̦l̖̣̺͔̠ ̖̩̥͈͙̻͢m̤̺ͅa̪͙̺_ _k_ _e̴̘̮̺͍͎ͅ ̗m̵͈̼̙͔ͅy͈͕͕̤͓̣͟ ͚̗͇̼̹̮̭b̡l̶͙̯̫̱o͡o͎̜d̙̳͍ ͢p̲o̘̙̥̗͓u̲̦̜̗̬n̷̜͕̹_ _d_ _.̧’̼͚̳̦͇̯̫͝_

 

Ikkaku swallowed, eyes darting around as this feeling of dread built in his stomach. He was starting to feel a little bit scared.    What was happening?. . .

 _‘Houzukimaru,’_ he tried, but still nothing.  
  


He’d tried to rape her, hadn’t he. He can see that he had, but he didn’t… he didn’t think that he’d meant to. He noticed with a sudden jolt that he was hard, and as soon as he realized, the erection died.

He half-raised a hand to his mouth to stop a dry-heave. He’d tried to.... It was just like his dream from this morning.  
  


“I’m sorry,” he said, keeping his voice low, eyes turned away. “Did I scare you? Are you okay?”  
  


She didn’t seem to realize that he’d addressed her for a moment, but she startled once she did, and whispered, “... Y-yes.”

“I won’t come near you again,” he promised quietly. “Don’t worry. I won’t bother you anymore.” He turned away a bit. “I just need some time for… for myself,” he muttered, and walked past in a daze, shuffling by them.

His eyes were wide open and staring. What happened?     Why did he do that?  
  


_‘Houzukimaru… Houzukimaru, why didn’t you stop me?’_ he thought, dread and guilt spilling through him. How could he have let that happen? How could he have done that?      _‘And why don’t you talk to me anymore?’  
_

_‘What’s the matter with me?’_

 

          Iemura was _livid._    “I’m reporting this,” he grit out, storming back and forth. It wasn’t often he felt driven to physical violence, but seeing that, that _monster_ forcing himself on Lieutenant Isane that way…     “That animal will never see the light of day again.”

Kotetsu stared after Ikkaku as he sort of drifted off, not understanding — because every time he’d been in here, especially lately, he’d been civil, sometimes even polite to her. Maybe he was a bit rough around the edges, but she’d known him to flay his subordinates alive for sexual attacks. A few had even ended up in the Fourth half-dead, courtesy of Madarame, simply for bragging about that kind of thing.

And she’s _never_ seen him show any interest in women like that, much less _her._ She never would’ve expected him to jump on her like that.

  
    Besides… His eyes…  


“No,” she said to Iemura hesitantly. “No thank you. I have to think… Those eyes,” she just whispered. “So… heartless.”

     
  
The man she’d examined in his cell after ripping his friend to shreds, those eyes were like that.

   
  
“I need to speak with Kiyone for a while.”

“Of course,” Iemura said, pushing up his glasses. “But I really must insist that this be reported.”

“Please leave this decision to me.”


	4. Chapter 4

Renji was still a little upset about what Ikkaku had said to him. It shouldn’t be bugging him, but it stayed there in his mind; he just didn’t understand it.

 

_‘Zabimaru?’_

After a flutter and a rumble from his Nue companion, he took a deep breath and was comforted from that pain of rejection by his role model. At least Yumichika was supportive of him. And Rukia too, the one he loved most in the world.

He thought about the murder more. Apparently the guy had gone psychotic out of nowhere, and had come out of it after ripping his best friend to shreds. He was currently in a holding cell, reportedly weeping inconsolably.

Renji couldn’t imagine trying to kill someone with his _bare hands_ like that. He probably couldn’t even do it to a dog. Killing was sometimes part of his duty as a shinigami, but it wasn’t often he had to kill another soul, and never with his bare hands. It took a dark and deranged heart to kill one’s friends.

 

_‘It’s a damn shame.’_

   
  
Renji went out to visit Ichigo with a spring in his step, excitement fluttering in his stomach. They hadn’t talked since the battle yesterday. After Ichigo had arrived, he’d come straight out to fight and then had spent the night at Rukia’s. When he visited, he usually bounced around.

Renji hoped to get him for the week, or for whatever period of time he’d stay.

When he came up to Division Thirteen, he found Ichigo doing errands for Rukia, being sent back and forth with bits of paper. Kid already looked like he was getting fed up with it, itching for something more fun and interesting.

   “Renji!” he called when he saw him, and Renji’s heart did a pleased jump.

“Hey kid, who made you their packmule this time?” Renji teased. Ichigo predictably scowled. Renji smiled. He’d thought he was too old to feel like this, seen too many things and known too many people to still feel so young and new — he’d thought he was too broken to still know how to be in love.

“Rukia. Apparently it’s easier to give me jobs than to pick one of the third seats,” Ichigo grumbled, but was clearly making a show of it.

“What’re your plans for later?” Renji got to the point. Ichigo shrugged.

“Eh. Screw around at the Eleventh. There’s no point trying to hide from those guys. An’ I guess I’ll see who else wants me.”

 _‘I want you,’_ Renji thought, but he didn’t say so. What he said was, “You still gonna' crash at my place? I’m heading back right now actually.”

“Yeah sure, just lemme’ tell Rukia I’m done bein’ her slave. Can you believe she tried to send me to Byakuya’s house to get her some candy?”

“Yes, I can. Because she loves screwing with you and you fucking let her.”

“Ugh, whatever. One sec’.”

As they headed back together, Renji smiled at him adoringly, couldn’t make himself stop. Ahh, he loved him. Just looking at him, he felt happy and excited.

     Young even.  Like all the blood and pain and disgrace he’s endured has been washed fresh and clean from his soul.  He felt brand new.

     _‘I didn’t know I could still feel like that. A villain like me.’_

Zabimaru purred, seeming to be laughing at him.   _‘All the shame you feel within, however you see yourself, that isn’t the man he sees when he looks at you.’_

 _‘He might’ve grown up since saving Seireitei the first time back then, Zabimaru, but he’s still innocent. If he can’t see through me, he has to be. He’s pure.’_ _  
_

                _‘One pure heart will always recognize another.’_

 

. . .  

 

Renji was in a weirdly good mood when they met. Ichigo put a smile on, because he was happy enough to see his bud too, but it was hard when he was in pain. Not a lot of pain, but irritating unignorable pain, like that of an inflamed hangnail.

He’d been hiding the mark he’d gotten yesterday. It had since become swollen and was leaking pus. The area around the pin-prick wound was badly bruised, like a botched injection from an inexperienced nurse. On top of it, his forearm was having strange fits where the muscles spasmed and contorted and flexed out of his control, twitching and clenching, causing his hand to grip almost into a fist.

It had scabbed up at least. If it kept bothering him after a couple more days, he’d go get it healed, but for now, it was just annoying.

 

 _‘You should get it healed_ now, _idiot,’_ Shirosaki scolded, irritable and moody.

_‘What’s up with you, you’re crankier than usual.’_

_‘Something’s weird. I feel weak,’_ he told him. Not that Ichigo isn’t glad that they’re getting along well enough for Shirosaki to admit that kind of thing to him, _to the king from his horse,_ but…

_‘You’re imagining things.’_

_‘And you’re in denial. Get that thing looked at.’_

_‘Whatever, Zangetsu,’_ Ichigo dismissed flippantly. _‘Lemme’ know if you want me to come check on you.’_

 _‘No need. Maybe later.’_ He sounded weary then, worn out. _‘Just take it easy, okay? I need a rest.’_

 

      It looked like he was going to crash at Renji’s house for the night. The guy sure seemed glad to see him, which was a good thing, he supposed. He didn’t know why he never expected it, but Renji’s been like that the last few times he’s come to Seireitei.

That night they were laughing and hanging around Renji’s quarters. Renji’s shared some alcohol with him even though he was still a year shy of the limit, pressed him to try it, just one glass, and Ichigo, after initially teasing him for distributing alcohol to minors, drank it. He felt good, warm and relaxed, laying on the floor with Renji, his mind a pleasant buzz.

Ever since the old days when Renji had used to come to the Living World to let Ichigo teach him things so he could report back to Soul Society, Renji’s always asked him a lot of questions about Karakura — so when Renji asked him how things were there, he expected it.

That didn’t make it any less strange or embarrassing when Renji asked him if there was anyone special in his life, back home.

Maybe it was the alcohol and the fact that he hasn’t drunk enough in his short life to recognize its effects on him yet — maybe he’s more buzzed than he thinks he is, because Ichigo actually found himself answering him, whereas usually he would have told him to take that question and go pound bricks with it.

“Oh. Nah, I haven’t found anyone who likes me.”  Ichigo shrugged a little, at first embarrassed, thinking that Renji was teasing him, but then he saw that Renji wasn’t smiling, instead listening intently.

Ichigo then considered more seriously, mumbling, “Besides… I don’t think I could be with anyone from the Living World who doesn’t _know,_ y’know?” He sighed. “I mean, I used to think I’d like a normal life with a normal person someday, but… I dunno’, I’d have to live a lie, and that would really suck.”   He gave a little laugh then, covering his eyes with his forearm. “Not to mention I’d go nuts trying to protect them all the time without giving away my secret. And it’s not like I could tell them the truth — they’d think I was insane. I’d have no way to prove it to them… They wouldn’t be able to see you guys.”

Renji lay propped on his side beside him, silent.

“No,” Ichigo eventually said. He hadn’t really thought about it much before now, but he supposed he did get lonely, not as much now as he’d used to, but he still did sometimes. He’d always felt bummed out about missing out on clubs and sports when he’d been busy taking out Aizen. He’d never dated in high school either.       “I need somebody I don’t have to worry about. Maybe then.”

Renji at last reacted, and he did so in the exact way he’d anticipated — teasing, and blowing him off.   He snorted, “Sounds kinda’ lazy.” Ichigo looked up, expecting to find Renji smirking and being condescending to piss him off, but instead he was looking away, picking at the fibers of the floor mats.     
  
  
   “You don’t even bother tryina’ find someone? You… You don’t ever get lonely?”

“...” Ichigo stared for a moment, Shirosaki also seeming to gape speechlessly.

“Well…” He squirmed defensively, pulling on his ear and just _knowing_ he was about to say something incredibly cheesy. “It never seemed important before.” He sighed and then muttered, “I have you guys so I don’t feel alone like I used to. But… if it came along, I guess it’d be nice.”

     _‘What… What the fuck is happening here?’_ Shirosaki demanded, voice quick and flustered, which only served to make Ichigo feel even more uneasy.    _‘What the hell is he saying?! What the hell are_ you _saying?!’_

“If love came along, you mean?” Renji said more directly, meeting his gaze then, and it felt uncomfortable, like he was seeing too much, staring too hard. Ichigo averted his eyes uncertainly.

He didn’t know what to do when their conversations took this kind of turn, when Renji stopped being shitty and arrogant and goofy and _annoying_ and showed that side that Ichigo’d seen many times throughout the years they’ve known each other, the things they’ve done together — it peeked out around the edges, this suffocating self-hatred, this sad pathetic thing, like a mangy dog. He’d seen it laid raw before him when he’d first defeated Renji and he’d begged him on the ground to save Rukia, please, but after that, it was only glimpses, the rest hidden away behind a veneer of determination and confidence.

Ichigo didn’t know how to talk to that person when he saw it, didn’t know how to be close to this pitiful thing that reached out to him, only for a moment, before it pulled away again at the rejection, at the hesitance.

  
          Renji didn’t draw back this time. He met Ichigo’s eyes for an incredibly long time, his expression serious but somehow soft.      “If someone loved you?”

“Yeah,” Ichigo heard himself say, feeling trapped in Renji’s gaze, this sneaking suspicion growing on the periphery, because he knows really, there’s only one reason Renji would be talking about this with him openly. The penny doesn’t drop yet though, because it didn’t feel real, didn’t feel like it could be true — there had to be another explanation.      “I’d give romance a try. I guess...”

Attempting to steer the conversation back towards a tone that he was more familiar with, light and trivial, _something less meaningful than that look Renji was giving him —_ “I guess we’d have to have things in common, and they’d have to be able to stand at my side in a battle. But otherwise…”

Renji was quiet for a moment or two, and Ichigo didn’t know what else to say, feeling that maybe they shouldn’t be talking about this. It must be the alcohol. They should just drop the subject, before… before _something._

Renji didn’t get the memo, it seemed, because he added then, “That’s all?” and Ichigo felt he had to defend his statement.

Reflexively, he brushed a hand through his hair and muttered, “Well, I’m not that cool or funny. All I know how to do is fight, so I shouldn’t be picky.” It’s not like he’s a teen pop star or something, he’s just a regular guy, so it wouldn’t be fair to have unreasonable demands. He figured that was normal, but Renji gave him a flat unimpressed look.

“What?”

“You dumbass.”

 _“What,”_ Ichigo insisted.

“Ichigo, have you _seen_ yourself? Do you not know you’re like, the cutest, nicest, stupidest, bravest kid to ever exist? Why’re you talkin’ like you’ve got nothing to give?”  
  
Ichigo had looked away halfway through all that, feeling his face get hot. They're both drunk, they must be, because Renji never gave him more than half-compliments usually  — _‘you’re not as bad as I thought.’   ‘You’re actually kind of okay sometimes, when you’re not being a little shit.’_

  Just now, he’d sounded so… _genuine,_ and it made Ichigo squirm uneasily. “Quit fuckin’ around…"

“No, really,” Renji insisted earnestly, rolling towards him a little. “Everyone you meet falls for you at least a little. That’s how you’ve won over so many people who were once enemies. ‘Cause you make ‘em believe in something — an’ they can’t help but love you.”

Ichigo didn’t understand how they were having this conversation, didn’t know what to do to make it stop. He just knew that they were crossing some sort of weird line of things that buddies shouldn’t say to each other — at least not in this way.

  
“That’s not true.”

   
     “To me it is.”  


  
Wait… _what?  
_  
  
Ichigo’s eyes boggled out and he gave Renji an incredulous stare, eyebrows raised. “... _Renji?”_ he questioned, voice coming out kind of squeaky. What the fuck was going on here?

He was starting to get it though, because if he’d thought Renji was teasing, this was the point where he would break, where he’d laugh and shove him and fuck around some more. But he wasn’t. He just kept giving him this deep look with those sad brown eyes, something tentative and vulnerable.

He must be drunk too. He just had to be, because the next thing he said was, “Just lookin’ at you, I feel like my heart’ll burst.”

“...” Ichigo stared at him, uncomprehending, heart pounding in his ears, because this played exactly like a love confession, and that couldn’t be right. There was a mistake somewhere that he wasn’t seeing.

Renji did break then, but not in the way he’d expected. He broke their gaze and looked away and gave a great disappointed sigh.   “I can’t believe I’m actually telling you this. . .” And Ichigo just lay there gobsmacked, staring; he didn’t know if he even breathed.    “I know you were only sharing, an’ it’s kinda’ rude to come onta’ you after opening up like that, but…” Renji turned his eyes back on him then, and Ichigo can see it clearly now.

 

_‘Hope.’_

   
“Ichigo, what you said about not being picky… Maybe you might think a’ givin’ me a chance?”

     “...”

The shock didn’t wear off because Renji just _did not stop,_ he just kept hitting him with one thing and then another until he was silent and absolutely stunned. It got worse the longer he lay there and stared and tried to make sense of what he was hearing, tried to explain it — too drunk, hit in the face too hard, a dream, _a dream.  
_

“‘Cause I’m just crazy about you,” Renji told him.

 _‘What the fuuuck,’_ Shirosaki whispers softly.  
  


“.... Not funny,” Ichigo managed weakly.

“Not joking,” was all he replied, so firm and shameless about it that that’s when Ichigo finally moved, that’s when he sat up, still goggling at him.

Renji sat up too, and for a second they just stared at each other, Ichigo with every hair on his body standing up, Renji with that same soft searching gaze.

 _  
_ _‘He confessed,’_ Ichigo thought numbly. _‘He just confessed to me. Renji… He… likes me?’_

 

And Renji must’ve really meant it because that’s when he leaned in to kiss him. There’s nothing else he could be coming closer like that for, except to try and kiss him. Ichigo sat stock still, a thrill of excitement and surprise lifting all the hair on his neck and causing his fingers to curl and his shoulders to inch up towards his ears.

He’s going to be kissed. He’s never been kissed before — Renji liked him? No one’s ever liked him before or tried to kiss him.      _‘Oh wow…’_

Renji hesitated in his personal space, perhaps testing whether he was about to hurl himself away in disgust, flinch back, or pull away. Ichigo didn’t know why he didn’t — it must be the alcohol again, had to be the thing that kept him there while his friend, the man who’d stood by him in the halls of Soul Society and on the sands of Hueco Mundo, moved their faces together.  He didn’t know why he was letting him, _was he really going to let him…_ kiss _him?_

His nose just barely brushed against Ichigo’s, as if challenging him, daring him to pull away, but simultaneously afraid that he really might, that rejection was only a moment away. Instead, Ichigo’s eyes fluttered closed on reflex and he gave a nervous swallow, licking his lips. He didn’t move back, but he can’t help but tip his chin down a little in involuntary shyness, his heart pounding in his throat.

Renji slowly tilted his head and moved a hand up to his cheek, and Ichigo held his breath, waiting, exhilarated.   Here it comes…

    
  
      _‘K_ _ing_ _,’_ Shiro said urgently, with a sense of building apprehension, _‘What_ _a_ _r̨͕_ _e ̧͢yǫ̨̼u͝҉̸̯ͅ-̻͕̦’͟_

 

Without warning or forethought, with strength that Ichigo hadn’t thought could possibly reside in his own arm, he struck Renji across the face. He stared wide-eyed as Renji’s head whipped to the side from the force of it, a loud _crack_ echoing in his ears.

Renji put a hand to his face, having grunted and reeled back in surprise, and Ichigo was horrified when he saw blood. He didn’t know what to say, staring from his hand, red and stinging, to Renji’s bashed face.  
  


_‘What?..._ Huh?!?’

 

 _‘What the fuck was that? Why did you-?!’_  Shirosaki hollered, as upset and panicked as he felt.

_‘I-   I don’t know!  I didn’t mean to, I don’t know where that came from!’_

_‘Well he’s never gonna’ try that again, that’s for sure. I can see why no one’s kissed you before now!’_

 

Ichigo tried to speak, tried to say something, an apology — he hadn’t meant it, really he hadn’t — but Renji stared at the ground and didn’t meet his eyes.

“I deserved that,” he finally muttered. “Knew I was pushing my luck.” He looked up then, eyes apologetic and searching and Ichigo felt everything inside him _blaze_ with guilt.

“Hey sorry,” Renji said, “I shouldn’t have gotten pushy. I won’t bug you anymore, yeah?” His voice was light, as though it weren’t a big deal, but the panic was there, and it came through when he firmly promised, “I swear,” and all Ichigo heard was, ‘please, I fucked up, please don’t pull away, please don’t turn away from me, I fucked up-’

“I swear I won’t do anything like that again,” Renji assured, seeming to be trying his best to calm an animal that was about to bolt, when he himself was that cowering dog, wanting to be pet and cuddled and _loved_ but always fearing the strike.

“No,” Ichigo said quickly, shaking his head wildly, frantic at the idea that Renji might withdraw his feelings. He’d never had a clue Renji thought of him that way, never knew that someone so loyal and loving and brave and good-hearted — might _like him._ He’d been completely in the dark about it, had never even considered, he’d never known…

  
  And now that he did…

   
“No, it’s not like that,” he blurted. “I dunno’ why I did that. It was a reflex,” he explained away. “I was surprised, that’s all.” He swallowed hard and tried, “You can… you can do it again.”

Renji looked away, mouth giving that little self-deprecating quirk, the desperately sad smile that Ichigo hated to see, the edges of a battered and lonely heart poking out. Turned away like that, the red mark, quickly darkening even as Ichigo watched, was openly borne to him.

“Heh’,” Renji snorted, and Ichigo was glad that he’d taken that blow so well, that he hadn’t retaliated in anger and instead was so quick to forgive, if not take the blame on himself. “I’m a little leery a’ that now.”  


  Ichigo’s shoulders slumped. Shirosaki was right. He’d scared him away and had lost his first chance at love.  


His desperate attempts at fixing it faded into gloom. “Mm,” he mumbled, trying not to sound too disappointed, _trying not to sound how he felt._

“I think it’s worth the risk though,” Renji teased tentatively, and Ichigo’s head popped up. “If you’re gonna’ let me woo you, it’s worth the risk of a few slaps.” And the smile grew a little bit, something in it sparkling brilliantly.

Ichigo perked up a bit, swiping at his nose with a frown that probably didn’t hide his enthusiasm one bit. He sat on his hands this time, and Renji leaned towards him, slow and steady.

He screwed his eyes shut, pursing his lips out, and Renji kissed him. Ichigo’s never been kissed before, and he thinks he melts at the way it feels, at how quick his heart flutters in excitement.  


_‘There you go, going soft again,’_ Shirosaki muttered, but he clearly didn’t mean it, lounging in the sunshine, and Ichigo paid him no attention.  


He and Renji kiss in the evening light and then when they pull back, Renji smiles, a real one, with teeth and shining eyes and a little laugh of relief. Ichigo smiles back. They smile at each other and kiss some more — this beautiful fluttering feeling creeps through his heart, blooming exactly the way a first love is supposed to, because even if he hadn’t ever considered this before today, it felt great. He felt so great that he was surprised he wasn’t glowing.

So he let Renji cup his face and kiss him on the lips, and kisses him back just like a teenager who’s never been kissed would do — that moment is perfect.  


                          Meanwhile, Ichigo’s treacherous hand, trapped beneath his legs, clawed and gouged lines into the floor.


	5. Chapter 5

Ikkaku had spent the afternoon looking for Yumichika, but after his run-in at Division Four, he’d stopped trying to find him, both out of shame and of not wanting to worry him. If Yumichika saw him like this, he’d only get upset.

Something must be wrong with him. Really, he ought to check himself into prison or see a doctor. He can handle it though; it’s all in his head, it must be. Houzukimaru’s just ticked and trying to teach him a lesson.

After he’d tried to rape  — _rape —_ Kotetsu, Ikkaku went home and sat in the living room, just staring and running the thoughts through his head, processing the horror of them. He couldn’t believe this. He couldn’t believe he’d done this.

        Why?   _Why, why, why?_  


He wanted to drink to forget, but he didn’t trust himself to drink while he was doing such weird things. He wanted to drink this away, but he’s afraid of what he’ll do, of what will happen.

He kept wondering why he’d done it. He was trying really hard to remember what had happened, how it had happened, _what had he said to her, what had he done?_

 

_‘I don’t know…’_

He remembered walking down the hallway, holding his papers, and then her tear-filled eyes and the shape of his teeth on her neck.  


God, what had he done? He’s not that kind of man to do that sort of thing. He’s not the kind of man who forces himself on a woman, who beats her like that. He never fights an unfair fight. An unreciprocated fight was just a nice way to say _bullying,_ which is something only weak-ass bitches do _._

The shittiest thing about it all was that he wanted to do it again. He wanted to try again, and he was mad that he’d been stopped.        
 

He could see that he’d really scared her, _hurt_ her. It was a shame. He liked Kotetsu well enough and now she would probably never speak to him again — he’s certainly going to keep his distance from her. It’s a damn shame. Even though he was a guy from an all-male division with Yumichika as his best friend, Ikkaku found value in female companionship too, but now he didn’t trust himself. He didn’t trust himself to be around a woman, not after how he’d hurt her and frightened her. If he could lose himself that much, how could he trust himself again?

Fuck, he felt so guilty. He’d made her _cry._ Oh, the look on her face — she was so shy and mousy and he’d _scared her._ He’s so fucked up, _this_ is so fucked up.

Ikkaku wanted to apologize, he wished he could take it back. He didn’t want to be the cause of that scared look. He wasn’t a bad person. Shit, he wanted to apologize.

  
       His short nails dig into [the floor.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SI2nXIjz1sk)

   
  
Ohh, and then… _Then he’d s_ _t̴r̶̕a͢ng͏̷l͏e̶ ͏h̴e̢r̷̕.̛_

 

       _‘Fuck, no, send flowers and apologize. You didn’t act like any man ever should.’_

 _‘Just get her alone and then kill her._ _R̫̞ape h_ _e̫͔͖r̥̣͎ ̼̖c̱o̰̹̥͍̼̣r̯̘͉̩p͈̲̬̖s͍͙̯̤ͅe̥̫͎̦͔.̟͚’͓̖̜_

 _‘Ah, damnit! … I want to kill, no, not just kill. It doesn’t matter who, I’m so fucking hungry that I think I’ll die. I want to violate, I have to or I will die. If I do not murder, the murder will be of my own soul. No, not murder,_ _I h̛a̶v͠e ̸t̡o v͠i̷ola͢t͜e_ _, I want to violate_ _so͔̥ ̩b̳͕̬̺͓ͅa͙͓̪d̫̗̮͓l̘y̗̝̣͔̪ ̞̩̝tha͈ͅt ̻̯̗͕̖͉͚th̳ḙ̠r̝̬e̼̳̼ ̫̩i̳s̠̥͓̥͇ ͈n̲̥͚̮o̻̮̤̪ț͙͖h͓̖͕̝i̲̣͈͇̗n̜g̜̺̲ ̲̺̜le̬̰f͓ͅt̮̥ ̭͔̦̗ͅbu̮͙t͔͕͈͚̦͕ ̣̬t͚̻̜̦̤͎haͅt̫̲͎ on͚̰͔̘e̗͖ ̬̳͈̮̖w̙̤̮̣̜i̥̲̩s͔̲h̗̯̹̬.͇’̮̪͚ ͓̣̝ͅ_

 

He nee͢de͢d to see ̶b̨loơd̸, ̸he fe̢l̨t l͟i҉k̷e h̶e’̨d̢ di̛e ͘i̷f ḩe͞ ͠di͏dn̨’t̡ ̡s̨a͘ti͘sfy͠ thi͏s ͝ur̴ge͏.

 

         “Houzukimaru,” he said through gritted teeth, but still nothing.

 

When Yumichika arrived home, Ikkaku was brought out of his dark mood.

They played some cards together and talked; things felt normal enough, but Ikkaku couldn’t help but feel annoyed at the yet-continuing eerie silence. There were birds outside and wind in the branches and Yumichika’s movements making noise enough, and there was his own breathing, but there seemed to be this stillness and dread-laden silence building around him.

Yumichika was speaking to him again, which was good. He seemed to have come out of that strange mood he’d been in before after the battle yesterday. At least Ikkaku was out of the dog house. He knew that he grew notoriously irritable when things weren’t good between them.

He and Yumichika talk about the squad and Yumichika mentioned the murder too, like Renji had — there were some more recent developments. The man had committed suicide in his cell.

Ikkaku was mostly a listener where their conversations were concerned. When they were out and about, he was usually the decision maker, but in private or in low-key social situations, Yumichika ran the place, chattering and gossipping at him.

While he was aware that many men complained of their partners talking too much, Ikkaku felt comforted and spoiled when Yumichika talked and paid him attention and spent time with him. Right now it was just what he needed to try and calm down. He felt much better, in fact, and stopped worrying about Houzukimaru’s mysterious continued absence and this annoying buzz of silence in his head.

Yumichika’s always been such a comfort to him. He got wild and crazy and hyper with nervous-energy, but Yumichika’s always wound him down. He’s been the best friend a man could hope to have. Especially in this troubling time, Ikkaku was so glad he had Yumichika.

Ikkaku shot him a smile as they played cards and drank tea together. He loved Yumichika, really. Thank god he has him.

 _‘Ahh, he’s so pretty too,’_ Ikkaku thought.  

 

                              _̛͙‘̹H̗̞͎͎e͖̝͙̱͝’̲̲͉d̢̳͇͖͚͈͈ ̘̠̣̜̱̗̪b̝̪͢e͏̜̯̙̹ ̖̻̳̥̫̰̭ẹ͎̜͖ṿ͚̻̫̞̙e̤͔̜͎͔ņ̣͚̖͍̫ ͏͎̗p̞͇̞͟ͅr̲͍̩̝̺̜̘e͇̪̭̺̺̱t̩̠͕̝t̺̰͇i̛̬͖͚̲e̪r͎̘̲ ̠̩͖i̘̖͈̣̭̘̟f̦͚̻̣ ̰̗͙̻͕̮ͅh̗͖͉̼e͇̜̦̥̞̯ͅ ̭͓͕w̜̹͕͍̞a͚̠̼̹s̶̯̯̫͕̥͓ ̨͍̗̳̥b̡l͚͔ẹ͎̜͖e̼͓̫̱̦͟d̢̳͇͖͚͈͈i͈̳̥n̴̙̤̭͖̳̙g̻̙ ̫͇͡f̠̯͍̖̳̰̪r͈̭̱̰̘͖͡o̞̠̺͉̮̳͜ͅm̻̬͓͖̙̳̼͢ ̣͍̻ͅt̯͚͖̬̭̠̹ẖ̰͖̤̳̘̬ẹ͖̼̦͘ ̖͎̖m͎̘̣̩̲̱o̪͙̪͖u̮͎̯̖̙̗͡t͞ḫ̠̤̺.͔̦̞’̴̦͟_

 

Rubbing his chest, Ikkaku squinted and strained for a moment, setting his cards down slowly. He felt strange again. Maybe he ought to lay down for a bit.

  “I think I wanna’ lie down,” he said.

Ikkaku got up so that he could go lie in bed, and he fucking stumbled. Yumichika’s hand shot out to take his arm for a moment, just until he righted himself. Ikkaku put a palm to his eye, rubbing his face. He felt so weak. He was lightheaded all of a sudden. He thought he might actually throw up, and he hasn’t thrown up in ages.

When he continued wobbling on his feet, swaying as though stone-cold drunk, Yumichika, able to see that he didn’t feel good, helped him get into bed, tucking him in. Usually when he was sick or tired, Yumichika would pat or rub his forehead or cheek with affection, just for a moment, but this time he didn’t.

“Get some rest.” Yumichika placed a hand on the bed, smoothing the blankets, and Ikkaku watched him go. Yumichika’s care of him just warmed his… his heart…

 _‘Man, I love him,’_ Ikkaku thought.    _‘I dunno’ what I’d do without that guy.’_

 

 _‘He seems tense around me lately though… I wonder why…     Maybe he’s seeing someone else and he doesn’t know how to tell me.’_   He’d caught Yumichika sending him these weird glances all evening. He didn’t know what it meant.

_‘I guess it’ll come right. Time goes on like it always has, and he and I’ll still be here, together.’_

. . .

 

Ichigo and Renji stayed up late into the night, talking about the old times.

They laughed as always, and teased, and argued, and got in each other’s faces when they irritated one another, but something was undeniably different. There was a tentative softness and warmth in Renji’s face, in his smiles, and when the moon was high in the sky and glowing and they were all tired out, Renji dared to rest his hand on top of his, and Ichigo felt fresh and alive and his heart pounded with excitement.

“Shouldn’t you go to bed soon?” Ichigo wondered. “Don’t you have work tomorrow?”

“I wanna’ stay up a little longer,” Renji said, giving a cheeky grin that made Ichigo huff and look away.

“If you’re gonna’ be sappy like this all the time then I change my mind,” he lied, but Renji laughed out loud, and just grinned wider.

“As it is, Kuchiki-Taichou’s gonna’ have my head. There’s no way I’m gonna’ be able to focus tomorrow,” Renji said with a sigh, stretching himself out with a satisfied yawn. He didn’t remove his hand from Ichigo’s, which kept him feeling oddly frozen in place — as if he somehow thought that if he moved, Renji would take his hand away.

“Why do you still work under him anyways, huh?” Ichigo prodded, almost instantly feeling the hair rise on his neck when Renji pressed his lips together. He knew it was sore and that he didn’t like to talk about it, but it was something Ichigo’s always wondered. He didn’t know why he was asking now other than to test the boundaries of this new… _this._

“I mean, it’s been like four years since I first came… You’ve had plenty chance to change divisions if you wanted. You and Rukia are getting along again now, so why stay under Byakuya?”

“You know about that, huh,” Renji muttered after a few moments of silence.

“She told me what happened.”

Really, Ichigo never would have guessed otherwise if Rukia hadn’t told him. He’d been under the impression that Renji and Rukia had been childhood friends and had always been that way — but he’d learned from Rukia how she’d been adopted by Byakuya and how she’d felt like Renji had just… _let her go._ She told Ichigo that she knew now that Renji had been putting on a brave face, not wanting to drag her down, but she’d said that at the time it had _hurt_ when Renji had told her he was happy for her.

And after that, they’d drifted apart, both of them so hurt that they were unable to speak to each other, or even look at each other — for _forty years_ _._ Ichigo couldn’t even imagine it. Rukia had told Ichigo about how Renji had worked under Kenpachi for those four decades, and had become a lieutenant under Byakuya — and he can imagine how _excited_ Renji must have been to tell Rukia about his change in rank — just as he had first come into their lives and taken Rukia’s powers, and inadvertently _ruined_ Renji’s forty years of hard work. Ichigo could understand how that could be enough to push someone over the edge.

Renji must have been planning that whole time, trying his hardest to become stronger, wanting to stand up next to Byakuya so he could show Rukia that he could be just as good. Ichigo had mentioned that thought to Rukia and she’d said that she hadn’t seen it that way, but it was probably true.    _‘That sounds just like him,’_ she’d murmured, gazing off sadly.

On top of it, she’d told Ichigo that it was already bad, because everyone had always talked about them being from Inuzuri. Ichigo hadn’t really understood until she’d explained how badly they were looked down on for it, poor, homeless, _wild animals,_ really. It had mostly stopped for her after she’d been adopted, but for Renji to try and better himself, it was a stain on his back even to this day.

Ichigo admired that determination. Maybe that was why Renji had been one of his first allies when he’d been a ryoka trying to save Rukia from the death penalty. He’d seen how desperate he was in his love for his friend, so much that he’d begged his enemy to rescue her after being defeated himself. So much that he’d faced off against a man he’d striven to defeat for decades, knowing he couldn’t win.

The humiliation he must have suffered, to work beneath the man who he must have hated and resented so bitterly for _forty years._ Ichigo couldn’t imagine enduring that.

“We’re on better terms now,” Renji said, not elaborating much. “I don’t want to defeat him anymore, that’s true.” Lowering his voice, he muttered, “But you’re right that it was humiliating.”

“So why.”

“Ichigo,” he huffed, “You forget that when you got here, everything changed. I was a different man then. For a really long time, that’s how things were. Figured I was already as good as dirt, so what did it matter if I degraded myself a little more to work towards my goal. I had forty years to work up that resolve. An’ besides… I loved her an’ missed her so much that I didn’t care how low I had to sink to get her back.”

“But what I’m saying is, you don’t have to do that anymore. So why not walk away with your pride.”

Renji let out a long sigh, as though considering. “I’ve finally earned some respect from Kuchiki-Taichou.”

_“Some?”_

“Look, he’s rich, and a noble, and I’m an Inuzuri mutt. I doubt he’ll ever really see me as an equal. But it doesn’t matter,” Renji said, “as long as Rukia thinks that I am.”

And Ichigo could see then that after forty years, that grudge was gone, he’d let his heart rest at long last.

“Besides,” Renji gave a small quirk of his lip, “A dog like me has never done anything except throw away his pride. There’s none left to walk away with.” He glanced to Ichigo, giving a sad smile. “You should know. You saw me in my lowest moment.”

“...” Ichigo furrowed his brow.     
    

           _‘I’m begging you, save Rukia!’_

 

“But I’m glad it happened.” Renji picked his head up a little and smiled, eyes warm. “Because you got me to stop pitying myself. I was really pathetic, going to help Kuchiki-Taichou arrest Rukia and put her in jail to be executed. Because I was never strong enough to beat him myself, after how hard I’d tried. But you came in just like that, saying you were going to save her. You made me brave enough to face him. Got me to help save her too, even though I’d just been tryina’ stop you a second earlier.”  Ichigo ducked his head. “I was so fucked up right then that I’d forgotten… After everything Kuchiki took away from me, I still had my heart. He could never take my heart.”

He smirked then. “Did you know that was the first time I’d ever shown my bankai in public like that? Back when Ikkaku’s was still a secret, so was mine. He taught me how and we practiced together. An’ you know somethin’ else?”

“What?”

“I found out later that when I was facing off against Kuchiki-Taichou, gettin’ my ass beat, you were fighting Zaraki-Taichou at the same time.”

“I thought you lost that fight?” Ichigo noted slowly.

“Yeah, but I struck him with my blade. A killing blow, in the chest. Zabimaru broke, but I reached him. With my fangs. So I did reach my goal, after all.” Renji smirked. “Plus, we got away with Rukia in the end, didn’t we. At the start of it, I was resigned to losing her forever after I’d tried so hard for so long, because of you, and in the end, we got her back ‘cause a’ you too.”  
  


[ Eyes twinkling](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oIyJyiKMbtU), Renji told him, “All you’ve ever done is make me a believer, kid.”

 

   Ichigo swallowed. “Is… is that why?...”    

 

“Yeah.” Renji smiled softly. “I might not’ve seen it at first. I was really jealous of you for a long time, even though we were allies. You were so easy in Rukia’s company, and you see, I’d had forty years to daydream of how I was gonna’ tell her I’d made lieutenant, and well, after everything happened, it wasn’t as easy as that anymore. We talked, of course, but, it was still hard. I didn’t hate you, at least, not like I did in the beginning. I can’t lie, I was happy to cut you down at the start, I hated you so much. You’d pretty much fucked up _everything_ for me.”

Ichigo snorted.

“But you never blamed me for that. You pulled me to my feet instead — after we pulled it off, you even brought me and Rukia back together like it was nothing, after so long apart. And once I stopped giving myself reasons to dislike you, it all made sense. I don’t know exactly when I realized it, but… for the longest time I wanted to hate you because I thought you ruined my life, when really… you made everything perfect, just like that. One or two brushes with death later, that is,” Renji joked.   
  


              “And once I figured that out, that’s when I knew.”  


“... Oh,”  Ichigo breathed, staring, feeling all aglow inside.

     _‘Damn, what a confession,’_ Shirosaki muttered.  


_‘I’ll say…’_ Ichigo felt woozy from it almost. Of course, he’d understood what Renji meant when he’d said he was crazy about him, but on some level he hadn’t imagined Renji’s feelings — whatever they were — to be so… _much._    


_‘Thought he was fuckin’ with us for awhile, but I think he really means it,’_ Shiro continued, sounding almost dazed, even a little timid maybe, just as hesitant and new as Ichigo was when confronted with love.

_‘Yeah… yeah, I think he does.’_

_‘So what now, then?...’_

_‘What do you mean?’_

_“Are we… are we really gonna’ do this? . . . Accept him?’_  
  


_‘I think… Yeah,”_ Ichigo replied, surprising himself.  
  
  


   “I’m glad I haven’t scared you off,” Renji admitted at length.

“You couldn’t scare a bird,” Ichigo said, even as his heart fluttered like a wingbeat.

“I mean it, doofus.” He curled his hand around Ichigo’s, covering it. “I know I like, _just_ told you, and it was unexpected, and you probably don’t feel the same way I do yet, but I’m glad you’re givin’ me a shot.”     Ichigo gave a shrug, looking away, trying to blow it off.

   “So can I state my intentions?” Renji said seriously, but with a certain eagerness.

“Don’t be so formal about it, sheesh.” It’s just embarrassing, really, to have Renji, _Renji,_ talk to him like that. It was strange to reconcile the man he’s known as his friend with the man holding his hand now.

“You’re someone I really admire and respect, and I wanna’ keep standing at your side,” Renji told him, and it seemed like since Ichigo hadn’t rejected him, he’d completely lost any shame in telling him his feelings, couldn’t hold them in.  “Lemme’ try to earn your love,” he murmured, and he was so gentle it was heartbreaking; Ichigo’d never thought that Renji could be that gentle, not to him at least. It made him feel shy somehow, and Ichigo’s never felt shy in front of Renji before.

He cleared his throat, looking down at his lap. “I didn’t know you were so serious,” he mumbled. “I never knew… Like, I don’t… For this long, you’ve…” He looked up, searching for his answer. He hadn’t considered that before, but it made the most sense now, didn’t it. Renji must have been feeling this way for some time, if he was talking like that. Ichigo stared at him in open amazement. It was still such a surprise.  
  


  “This is whack,” Ichigo blurted.  
  


“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t rush it,” Renji assured, but he doesn’t let go of Ichigo’s hand. “I know you’re young and a human. I wanna’ show my feelings to you in the human way.”

“Like… dates and stuff?” Ichigo worked out. “You wanna’ be my boyfriend,” he said aloud, the words coming out numbly. This was moving so quickly, but somehow, that fluttery feeling inside that should’ve been _fright_ was instead just a building excitement. It didn’t feel wrong. It felt like it made sense. It felt right, in his bones, that this should happen. He didn’t know why he’d never seen it before.

“Let’s not worry about any a’ that right now. Let’s just do this slow, and see what happens,” Renji says, his thumb running over Ichigo’s knuckles, his eyes shining. He snorts and looks away, shy of being looked at like that — _like he’s anything special —_ but he still smiles and pulls on his bangs.  
  


     “Okay.”  
  
  
  


       Ichigo’s slept over at Renji’s house before, but it felt different this time to see a futon rolled out on the floor for him next to Renji’s, identical little beds, blankets tucked in with care.  

Ichigo got into bed, snuggling down in his futon, feeling somewhat shy as Renji undressed right there and put on his sleeping yukata. He’d put on his own when Renji had been out of the room. Seeing Renji’s bare back, his muscular shoulders — everything, everything felt different suddenly.

Renji at last got under his own blankets and they both smiled at each other in the darkness with some degree of excitement. It was the first day of a new adventure.

“Why do you have flower pajamas?” Ichigo whispered, always feeling he should lower his voice when the lights were off, even though it was still just the two of them.

Renji snorted at the tease. “I like flowers.”

“Yeah, but aren’t you worried about your reputation?”

“Ikkaku-san says true men wear flowers without shame,” Renji recited solemnly. “What,” he noted then, grinning that familiar cocky grin, “You don’t like ‘em? Too pink?”

“No, I do,” Ichigo mumbled, head turned on its side to look over at him. “Pink’s my favorite color.”  Renji’s teeth gleam in the dark when he smiles, wide and happy.

 

   They fell asleep like that together, side by side.

. . .   

 

Yumichika stayed awake for as long as possible, but at last went to bed in tears, burying himself in the covers and hiding his face. Ikkaku was acting so strangely.

One moment it would seem as though everything was back to normal, and then out of nowhere, he’d speak to him so cruelly, remorselessly, as though he didn’t care about his feelings at all. Yumichika didn’t understand what he’d done to make Ikkaku treat him this way.

Perhaps he’d begun to hate him as Yumichika had always suspected he would.

He’d never been more afraid, felt _sicker_ than when Ikkaku had discovered his secret — not until he’d whipped around and left him, and with it came a sharp twist of utter dread, _despair and emptiness, he’s gone, he’s gone, he’s gone._

By the time he’d been able to drag himself home, he couldn’t do anything but lie on his bed, lifeless with sorrow. In that moment, maybe Yumichika had expected Ruri’iro to be self-righteous, vindictive even, because wasn’t this what he deserved? He’d made his choice; he’d chosen Ikkaku over his own soul, and this was what he got — but instead, Ruri’iro had been timid, uncertain even.

    _‘… He’ll come back, I’m sure…’_  

Ruri’iro had tried to draw a response from him, but Yumichika had just lain there for hours, utterly bereft, until at last, with a sharp gasp, he began to cry.   He’s spent so long, he’d been so careful, trying to hide it, and in the end, he lost Ikkaku anyway.

 

_‘Why couldn’t I have been different? Why wasn’t I better?’_

And now here he was. He found himself thinking the exact same thing again, and again, Ruri’iro tried to snap him out of it, rather pitiful in his attempts to comfort.

 

He sniffed, hiding his ugly face in his pillow, and listened for any signs of Ikkaku waking up. He looks over, and he’s lying completely still, mouth closed, eyes still under his eyelids, and breathing seemingly absent.        

_‘Oh Ikkaku, what can I do to make you love me again.’_

_‘Don’t be so pathetic,’_ Ruri’iro scolded immediately. _‘Don’t stake your life around this oaf who’s caused us both so much pain over the years.’_  

 _‘It was worth hiding my true nature, if only he loved me,’_ Yumichika continued bitterly. _‘I wish I’d never told him about you.’_

 _‘You’re speaking like a fool. Pull yourself together. Never once have I thought he would ever actually leave you,’_ Ruri said haughtily.

_‘You say that because no matter what happens, you’ll have Houzukimaru.’_

_‘And as your souls are entwined, so are you. This will pass. Treat him with patience.’_

  
  
Yumichika sighed. _‘I’ll try.’_

 

. . .

  


The two of them had been sleeping peacefully for some time when Ichigo awoke, disoriented.

For a confused moment, he blinked into the darkness, then patted around with his arm. Why wasn’t he in bed?

He picked up his hand and raised it to his face, and saw that his nails were chipped and bleeding, his fingertips shredded and bruised with thousands of tiny abrasions, like he had ground them against the floor.

After a few more moments, he realized dazedly that he’d dragged himself out of bed and over to Renji.

He yawned and stared at his arm. It was throbbing in pain now that he was aware of it, now that he’d looked at it. Lying as close to Renji’s bed as he was now, Ichigo looked down at Renji’s sleeping face, smiling when he saw he was drooling a little. He leaned down a bit, and after a moment, dared to touch and play with his long loose hair; it was so nice when it was down. He’s always thought so.

Ichigo had never really thought about Renji in particular as a potential boyfriend, but now that the idea had sprouted, that he and Renji were going to attempt a relationship and grow to love each other, Ichigo found that he was eager and excited and even liked the idea, and he felt sure that he could come to like Renji too, a great deal, in time.

Perhaps this was just his teenage excitement and inexperience talking, excited that someone liked him, but another part thought maybe it had always been there, but he just hadn’t paid attention to it until now. Renji’s always had his back, he’s always encouraged him, held him up, supported his crazy ideas.

 

     He’d never thought it would happen, but now that it had, he’s gonna’ give this an honest try.  
  


Ichigo pet Renji’s forehead a little and stroked his hair, getting a thrill that he was able to do that. Happiness making him bold, he leaned down and kissed Renji’s sleeping eye. “Hey, moron,” he said with a smile, nudging him. “Wake up.”

Renji tossed sleepily, inhaling and then blinking a couple times. Ichigo watched as he slowly focused on him, a warm light coming into his eyes. “... Ichigo,” he said [ raspily](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vZ73f7zV4ec).

_  
    ‘King̦͕͞-̸͕̭̱"’̳͉̜_

 

      It happened so fast that Ichigo just stared for a moment, stunned, and Renji, likely just as shocked, was frozen too. Then came aghast horror.

At Renji’s fond whisper of his name, Ichigo’s hand had shot out and seized him by the throat and begun squeezing ruthlessly, choking him.  
  
After the moment of surprise, Renji began sputtering and wheezing for breath, gasping silently and trying to pull his hand away. Ichigo tried to let go, but found his grip was too tightly locked in place — he couldn’t control the straining muscles of his arm.

“Wh-! I…!” he blurted in confusion, scrabbling at his arm in panic with his other hand, but in vain.

Renji was kicking his legs and thrashing, unable to get even a single gasp of air, face silently contorting, and Ichigo could see that he was going to go unconscious soon, unable to get blood to his brain, and he began screaming frantically, “Stop, stop!”

Shirosaki was cursing up a fit, but Ichigo was just trying to breathe through his panic, desperately pulling at his fingers to try to so much as loosen his hold on Renji’s neck. He could feel Renji’s pulse pounding against the bottom of his palm, blood trying to make it to his head, but cut off by his grip.

 _“Stop this hand! Someone!”_ he hollered. He tried with all his might to pry his fingers off his neck, Renji was too, his hands straining at Ichigo’s grip. Renji was stronger than he was admittedly, going by pure physical strength, but even he couldn’t get him to let go, it wasn’t working.

Ichigo felt his throat close up in panic as Renji’s struggling began to grow sluggish and his face grew pale and clammy, his grip on Ichigo’s hand weakening as the seconds went by, ten, then twenty, _thirty._ The veins in his lips and eyes were full and dark, the spark there that was so desperate to survive starting to waver.

Ichigo was an inch from bawling his eyes out in helpless panic. Shit, he’s killing him, he’s watching him die right there on the floor, what does he do, _what does he do?!_

Renji raised an unsteady hand, pointing two fingers out at him in the shape of what Ichigo at first thinks is a gun, but then an angry red glowing ball began to form, and a shakkahou fired from his palm, just as strong and recklessly aimed as usual, and Ichigo was blasted away.

Renji rolled onto his front, coughing and gasping, holding his throat and chest, practically throwing up. Ichigo sat up unsteadily, head spinning, only to find with horror that his arm was still going for Renji, reaching, clawing at the floor and dragging him towards him.

 _“Ahh!”_ Ichigo yelled in frightened panic, trying to hold it back with his other hand, but it was freakishly strong, and the only thing he could think to do was stand up and put it out of reach of anything. Before he could, his hand got a grip on the floor, nails cracking and bleeding as it yanked him towards Renji, reaching wildly for him. _“Wahh! Ahhh!_ I can’t stop it!”

Renji, still winded and with a an angry red mark growing around his neck, managed to get to his feet and look around, chest heaving. “It’s okay,” he wheezed, voice so weak and cracked he could barely get the words out, breaking into coughing and gasping again. “It’s okay, keep calm, don’t panic-” he croaked.

“My arm’s gone fucking psycho, I’m a little panicked!” Ichigo hollered. “What the _fuck_ , are you okay?! I almost killed you! I swear that wasn’t me, I didn’t mean it! Fuck, I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

“Shh, it’s okay,” Renji tried, approaching him, as if to embrace and comfort him, to take his shoulders. “I’m okay now.”

“No, stay away from me!” Ichigo burst, backing away. “I don’t wanna’ hurt you!”

“Ichigo, shhh, you’re flipping out, man,” Renji insisted, holding his hand out, one still up to hold his throat. “Look, we just need to trap it under something heavy.”

Ichigo calmed down a little bit. Renji’s always had a marginally cooler head in these high-stress situations, having actually been trained for it.

At first they thought Renji’s training weights would work, but they didn’t prove to be heavy enough; Ichigo’s arm was amazingly somehow able to escape the tremendous weight. They settled on smooshing his forearm under the legs of Renji’s bureau, putting the weights in the drawers.

Ichigo lay on the floor, gasping at the ceiling, and Renji collapsed next to him in a sit, holding the shelf still when his arm thrashed around, rattling the shelf alarmingly.

“What the fuck _is_ this,” Renji sputtered, still slightly breathless, and Ichigo couldn’t believe this, he couldn’t believe he’d just choked Renji. If Renji hadn’t thought to shoot him with a kidou, by this time, he would be dead, or just as well might be.

“Is it… Is it your Hollow?” Renji wondered hesitantly.

“No, he’s as freaked out as I am!” Ichigo yelped when his arm gave a particular desperate thrash.

“What is it then?”

“It’s… been happening for awhile now,” he muttered, having the decency to sound ashamed.

He winced when Renji choked out an exasperated, _“What?!_ You jackass! Why didn’t you _say_ anything?!”

“I’m not a jackass! I thought I was just stressed out or that it would go away,” Ichigo defended, getting serious then. “Look, I can’t control it at all. I can feel everything it’s doing but I can’t stop it when it starts moving around. I don’t know what triggers it.”   He knows what has to happen. He already knows, and he’s not afraid to face it.

Gritting his teeth, he said, “Renji, there’s no use.” And because Renji still hadn’t realized what he had yet, he told him, “Cut it.”

Renji was silent for a beat, and then hissed out in a harsh whisper, _“What?_ ” He shook his head. “I’m not cutting it.”

“Cut it!” Ichigo snapped then, eyes wild. “It tried to kill you, I won’t forgive it!”

“Ichigo, don’t be stupid.”

“There’s no other choice. You’ve gotta’ do this for me.”

Renji sighed then, seeming to consider it for his sake, expression stony. At last he said somberly, “You can’t fight with no sword arm.”

“I can’t protect with an arm that tries to kill the people I-” Ichigo ground his teeth together, “Care about.”

“Which part is moving on its own?”

“Elbow on,” Ichigo panted, screwing his eyes shut and turning his head the other way. “Leave me some stump.”

“Ichigo… I don’t think I can.” Ichigo looked up at him and found him giving him this pitiful conflicted look — and Ichigo sees that Renji won’t accept it. … Ichigo had thought that he would, but he just won’t.

“Don’t get close to me!” he cried when Renji tried to touch him. “Hurry and do it!” he insisted.

“Can we try a binding kidou? Can we get someone?” Renji tried helplessly.

“I don’t think there’s time,” Ichigo said breathlessly, sweat rolling down his brow, his shoulder aching from the ruthless straining of his rogue arm. “What about that other guy, I bet it was the same thing. You told me he went crazy and killed his best friend — it’s the same goddamn thing, Renji. You have to do it before my mind goes too. If I grab you again-”

 _“Don’t worry about me!”_ Renji shouted, cracking under the pressure.

 _“I have to!”_ Ichigo demanded, “Cut it off!” And when Renji just knelt there by his side speechlessly, hands laying in a heap on the floor, shoulders slumped, Ichigo urged, “Here,” still breathless, heart pounding with adrenaline at what was to come. “Use Zangetsu. He’ll cut through it cleaner.”

Renji swallowed hard, but stood up and retrieved Ichigo’s sword from the stand beneath Zabimaru, holding it in uncertain hands. If Ichigo’s voice shakes, neither of them say anything about it. “Oi, let Renji borrow you for a sec’,” Ichigo muttered, placing his safe hand on the guard of his sword. “We’re gonna’ get ridda’ this thing.”

Renji took Ichigo’s hand in his, and Ichigo held on tightly, rubbing his thumb on Renji’s knuckles. “Do it,” he forced out.

Renji shook his head again, and looked like he was going to say something, but it got lost a moment later. The hand was scrabbling and hitting things loudly, and with a bang, broke free, roughly wrenching its way out from under the bureau, ripping and shredding the skin from the top of his forearm in a thick bloody swathe as it dragged under the wood.

Renji slammed his foot onto his arm and swung Zangetsu down without hesitation, without holding back, and in that moment, Ichigo didn’t feel anything, just staring into Renji’s eyes, alight with fire and a certain dogged determination, the same thing that dragged a bleeding mess from the ground and stood him up before a man with a sword made of a thousand cherry blossoms — a will for survival, a will to protect, at any cost.

In the next second, the blade sank through his arm and into the floor beneath with a heavy _chop._ Ichigo screamed, eyes crossing in agony, curling forward into an already growing pool of blood.

He can vaguely feel Renji holding him, enclosing his body in his arms, but it’s a small thing in the face of the unbearable pain of it all, and through the tears blinding him, he caught sight of his forearm crawling away.


	6. Chapter 6

The first night after the attack had been dreamless, likely due to his exhaustion, but he’d recuperated enough now that he was having nightmares again, and in his dreams, there was no one there to stop him this time, no Iemura to kick him away, no one watching and waiting to catch him.

It wasn’t Kotetsu this time. It was Yachiru.   _Why is it Yachiru?_  He didn’t even care.

She’s so small. She can’t escape and she can’t fight him. She has no strength in the dream world. She isn’t more powerful than he is, she’s just like any normal little girl would be — absolutely helpless against a grown man.

     And there's no one — no one there to stop him, so he does not stop.

He forces himself into her and she screams and writhes and cries; he holds her little arms down and she won’t stop screaming as he forces her little body to fit to his. Her stomach moves with each jolt of his body, and when he grabs her narrow shoulders and presses down, _forces_ her down, something breaks inside her, _he can feel it against his dick,_ and she stops screaming at last. Drool ran from her mouth and her eyes rolled back.

Ikkaku dug his nails into her throat, tearing it out in one rough swipe and a spray of blood, he pried her ribs apart, gouged through her flesh, looking for the heart.

 

 _T͇̓̆̆ͭ̂ͅḧ̲́̅̉ḙ̳͍́̊̊ͥͬͫ̅ŕ̮̭͚̌̋ͯ̐̍̚e͍̗̹ͅ ͍i͍̹̜̟̺͋ͩṫ̝̟̳͕ i̔̏̊̆̓ͣ͑_ _ș̣̉_ _.̖̙̖̙͔ͣ̋͗̾̑̆̾_

 

Just as he reached for it, just as he was about to touch the beating, red, juicy heart, he orgasmed, and he could see that she was dead in his arms. As his fingers touch the heart at last, it goes motionless; it’s cold, and withers beneath his touch, withers into nothingness.

 

 _‘...!’_ Ikkaku sat up with a gasp, holding his chest, shaking all over. He’d woken up hard again. _‘Nightmare,’_ he thought vaguely through a spinning sense of panic, _‘Just a nightmare… just…’_

He got up as fast as he could, vomit bubbling up in his throat almost the second he moved — he collapsed there in the bathroom, bile stinging his mouth and his throat and his nasal passages. He can’t make it back to his bed. He just shuddered there and gasped and wiped his face, surprised to find tears running from his eyes.

Why was this happening to him.     _‘Yachiru,’_ the thought came, and he gagged again, dry-heaving.

She’s a little sister, or a niece really, despite how much she pestered him. Just thinking about anything hurting her — not that it could — put him in a blind rage. And it was him, him who'd torn her apart, ripped her insides out, he can feel it on his hands, crawling over his skin, the warm gush of her blood. He can feel it still, the way the viscera had split, the sharp  _pop_  against his dick as her insides burst and separated as he punctured through to the rest of her organs, he could feel it where he lay hard and aching — the sensation will not fade.    She’s a little girl, she’s just a little girl…

 

How can something so horrible be in his brain? How can he have dreamed this — how can this be something that he'd imagined so clearly? Why was he seeing this? _Why, why, why?_

   
Needless to say, he never got back to sleep that night.

 

         “Houzukimaru?” he croaked.    

 

                              “... Houzukimaru...”

 

. . .  

 

Renji’d had sort of a rough night, [to say the least.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ItJsU87F2dw) It had started off _great,_ other than getting a pretty brutal strike to the face, but Ichigo’s accepted his feelings and had even let him kiss him — what a wonderful thing to be happening to someone like him — so he wouldn’t have expected that things would go so horribly wrong.  
  
He didn’t know what was going on.   

It had given him quite a scare, to wake up and smile at one’s new boyfriend one second and then be viciously choked the next. At first he’d thought Ichigo’s Hollow had taken him over, that the kid had lost control of it, but deep down, he thinks he understands. It’s like Ichigo said. It must’ve been how that murder had happened.

 

    It was just like that murder, except they’d stopped Ichigo in time. Before he killed him.  
  


There wasn’t time to think about it now though. He had to get Ichigo medical attention. He was bleeding so much.

Renji had gotten the hand trapped in a box — it was fucking hard to look at, it’s Ichigo’s hand, after all — and it was rattling and banging around in there even now. He was holding onto that and helping Ichigo, who was stumbling along and clutching the bloody wrapped stump of his arm, tears streaming down his poor face.

It had to really hurt — Renji had tied a tourniquet just under Ichigo’s armpit to try to stop the bleeding, and had wrapped the end of his arm so the wound and the, god, the _bone_ wouldn’t be exposed to the open air. It looked _bad._ He didn’t know how Ichigo was bearing it without passing out.

Renji hates this, it’s tearing him apart to see him like this, snuffling and gasping in pain, gritting his teeth and moaning, _crying_ through tightly clenched jaws, each slow step drawing another agonized whimper to claw out through his lips. Renji had an arm around his shoulders, urging him to keep going, just keep going and the pain will stop soon.

“Shit, it’s still goin’ nuts,” Renji grit out, trying to keep a hold on the box when the hand thrashed and struggled. Ichigo stumbled, and Renji hefted him up, gritting his teeth when Ichigo yelped in pain.  “Sorry. It’s almost over. C’mon, a little farther.”

Renji was keeping calm for Ichigo’s sake, but the truth was that he felt helpless, _scared._ Ichigo won’t respond, he's hurting so bad that he won’t even speak, and was starting to make these pitiful keening noises, _whimpering_ and gasping, and the tears kept falling. All Renji knows to do is to get him help — he can’t let Ichigo stop, has to make him keep walking.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, buddy, just a little farther. We’ll fix this, not much longer now — keep going, you have to keep going, almost there.”

They made their way along, not to the Fourth, but the Twelfth.  


            They had to see this.


	7. Chapter 7

Yumichika and Ikkaku were out on the training grounds together, running drills. After a few hours, there was a calm moment when nothing was going on and everyone was relaxing and bumming around.

Ikkaku seemed to be brooding somewhat, but that was only since Yumichika had mentioned that Ichigo had been admitted to Division Twelve for testing — and of course, that there had been another murder. Another man had killed his friend, and disturbingly this time, had cannibalized him, eaten part of his heart.

Ruri’iro was still urging him to treat Ikkaku patiently, to try and talk to him and to be willing to make amends if Ikkaku truly was upset about the whole _sword situation_ again. Yumichika listens, but only because he's frightened, and he doesn't see what else he can do.

“Ikkaku?” he tried when the tense atmosphere between them seemed to stretch. If only he could cheer him up, if he could understand what had gone wrong between them so that he could try to fix it. Yumichika was very proud, and found it hard to lose face in any situation, but Ikkaku giving him the cold shoulder was torture — he’d do anything to make this stop, he was at the end of his rope here.

“Mm.”

“Have I done something to upset you? You’ve… You’ve just seemed so cold towards me lately. So tense.”

 

       “... Tense?”

 

Ikkaku gave him no warning. He just slashed for Yumichika, struck out at him with a viciousness that [ horrified him.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eqUE1Uq7JvU)  

 

Although he should have stopped being surprised at this point that Ikkaku was becoming prone to lashing out at him, Yumichika was completely caught off guard nonetheless. Ikkaku really could have killed him just then if he hadn’t dodged in time. He didn’t stop either, pursuing with ferocity, _bloodlust._

       “Ikkaku, stop it!” he cried, drawing his sword because he had no choice but to block. Ikkaku forced Yumichika to engage, to parry his blows, putting him on the defensive.   “What are you thinking?!”

Ikkaku didn’t listen; he didn’t seem to care about anything.  His eyes are cold, merciless. Not even his usual relish for the thrill of the fight is there — nothing looks back at him except darkness, and a determination to kill. 

He frantically dodged as many times as he could, trying to retreat, but Ikkaku pursued, backing him into the courtyard. When a rough swipe of the blade came too close for comfort, eventually Yumichika shouted, “Ikkaku, I don’t want to fight you!”  
  


    “Then I guess I’m gonna’ kill you,̙ b͔̟͕̤̻̭ͅi͈̘̭ͅt҉̣c̞̗̜̬͢h͘!̹̩̞̙͙̙”͚̫̗

  


. . .    

  


Kenpachi woke from his midday snooze when some annoying racket reached his ears. Normally he’d be pissed off to be bothered, because those blockheads know better than to fuck around in the middle of the day like this — but he soon saw there was a scuffle of some kind going on down in the yard.

This wouldn’t be of much concern normally, because it wasn't exactly out of the ordinary, but interestingly, it was his third and fifth seat doing the fighting. Even if it was unusual, it wasn’t unheard of for those two to spar out in the open like that. Today, it seemed weird somehow though. A bunch of his men have gathered to watch their superiors fight, but they weren’t shouting encouragement, it seeming to penetrate their thick skulls that the fight wasn’t in good fun, that something was very wrong.

Kenpachi watched, raising an eyebrow. It looked like most of the division was there by now too, watching as Ikkaku engaged Yumichika out in the middle of the yard, relentless, their scuffle kicking up a cloud of dust, whipped back and forth by their quick movements. That was the weird part.

Ikkaku looked really intense, like he was really going at it, but Yumichika wasn’t bringing his best to the fight. He was blocking and ducking and scrambling away, not even giving his usual show of fighting back — and Ikkaku wasn’t letting up. He could hear him from here too, and he was _berating_ him, and Kenpachi got what was going on now. He was humiliating Yumichika in front of the squad.

He's not dumb. He knows those two had some sort of falling out a while back, but the extent of it was that they hadn't spoken to each other for a few weeks and Ikkaku had been more ornery than usual — they'd gotten through it after that though, so Kenpachi doesn't know what could possibly be going on now to have whipped Ikkaku up into such a rage that he'd pull this kind of stunt.

 _‘What the hell is his damage?’_      He wasn’t holding back at all, and Kenpachi could see it in his eyes, feel in his intent that he was about to go in for the kill, and in a flash, he understands — this isn’t just public shaming; it’s an execution.

“I don’t want to fight you!” Yumichika repeated desperately, and it’s plain to everyone there that he won’t, he won’t fight back, not hard enough to escape, and Ikkaku was going to kill him.

Maybe he shouldn’t interfere, but he did. He’s already awake, and this is looking like a mess, so he cut in, because Yumichika said he didn’t want to fight and Ikkaku didn’t even seem to have heard him — or just didn’t give a shit. He was going _crazy._ When he hopped down from the roof and made his presence known, he expected Ikkaku to fall back and calm down, but Ikkaku’s blind rage turned on him, and then he was crossing swords with him instead, and shit, he was pressing him hard, like a beast gone mad.

“Oi Madarame, snap out of it,” Kenpachi droned, Ikkaku’s blazing reiatsu still dwarfed by his own. He effortlessly parried the vicious swings with his own blade, staring into Ikkaku’s face. He looked like a mad dog, he honestly did.

       “What the fuck is wrong with you, man.”

Ikkaku stopped and looked up, and for a second Kenpachi thinks he’s got through to the maniac, but then he sees that he’s grinning, his eyes wide. He looked insane.

              “I’m like no man you’ve ev̧e͜r s͢een͝.”  His voice was flickering in and out between something high-pitched, his normal tone and something else.   

This black… _thing_ was snaking up through the veins in his neck and the side of his head, like it’s traveling through his blood.

“You train your soldiers well,” Ikkaku continued. “How̛ ̵ea͘sy i̵t w̷as t͘o in̶filtr̴a̢t̡e t͞h̶is m̶inḑ and ̸corr҉u͝pt͢ ͟t̛hi͠s͠ ͏h̸e͢a̛r̶t… ̛… Ju̵s̸̶t ̧̧i͞m͢a̵̛gi̢̨̨n͡ę ̷͢i̧f͡ i͜t̷̨͝ ̷̧h̢͢͢ad͡ ̕b̸̷͢ee̶n͜͝ yo͞u…” He laughed then; fuck, he’s lost it.

     “H̸̪̼͉̟̝͔a͇̳͍̟̞h̛͖̝̬͎̰̱̹…̗. ̴̞͉̘̝H͎̗a̞ _h̶͚̭̱a̴h̴͎͈̞̲̘͚a̢̞̮̦ḫ̸̙̪̞a̢̳̳͎̖͈h̥̭͕͖̩a̦͞!̡̺̙̗”̘̬̣͖̯_

  


Kenpachi was creeped the fuck out, and took the opportunity to hit Ikkaku in the forehead with the butt of his sword, sending him onto his ass in the dirt, but he was still just laughing away. “I told you to cut the shit!” Kenpachi bellowed, and Ikkaku stopped, which should’ve been good, but it looked like he was having a goddamn seizure.

All the muscles in his face and chest are coiling tight, seizing up, his neck contorting, and the blackness was receding.

 _“Gkhg!”_    It might be just a trick of the light, but it seemed like Ikkaku’s sword was glowing or something.

 

. . .

  


Ikkaku was on the ground, groaning, feeling pretty fucked up.

 

He spat blood on the ground, looking up at the captain, who was just standing there, staring at him, eyes wide, face grim. Yumichika was nearby, frozen and spooked.

He’s out in the yard, bleeding into the dirt. The captain must’ve hit him so hard that he’d blacked out. He must have challenged him again and got his ass kicked in front of the whole squad. He doesn’t see how else he could’ve gotten here.  
  


“Taichou…?”    His eyes were watery, but he blinked it away.   “You beat me again, huh?...”  
  


  
He expected the usual grin, but Kenpachi’s expression became disappointed, disgusted even; _ticked,_ most of all.    Ikkaku frowned… ‘ _... What?’_

He doesn’t know what he did wrong — maybe he’d been particularly pitiful this time around, not even enough for the captain to work up a sweat. He doesn’t know, but he wobbled his way to a stand, straightening his back in respect.  
  
“... I’ll do ten laps around the barracks, Taichou. See you at dinner.”  
  


He limped off.

 

                  I̺͎̟̳͎͖t̬̹̺̦̮’̞̠͔͇̻̥s̠͙̜̮̺ ̣͓̯n͇̖̹o͇̠̝̩t̖̳ ͚̟̮̻ͅe̻ͅn̟̹̤̩ͅo̮̻u̪̞͈̯̰͓̤g̮͎̳͓h͓̮̟̣.̗̻̤̭̩͎

  
  


 

Kenpachi watched him go with a shake of his head. Yumichika stood at his shoulder, panting, still winded. He didn’t get what was going on between those two, especially with his third seat — he just figured he was a sick fuck-up who’d just seriously tried to kill his best friend and humiliated him in front of the squad.

He’s pretty ticked about it, because he doesn’t like that kind of shit go on. He doesn’t want to do paperwork about that kind of nonsense — and more accurately, he doesn’t need any more drama happening in this family.

 

. . .

  


        After last night’s _excitement,_ if it could be called that, Ichigo was resting at Renji’s house.

Luckily, or perhaps rather creepily, Division Twelve never slept, and by the time they’d dragged themselves in, there’d been plenty of officers awake to quickly get Ichigo inside and stop the bleeding. He didn’t remember much of the details past being jabbed with needles and having flesh and blood samples repeatedly taken so that some tests could be done — he’d been in so much pain they probably could’ve done anything to him. He did at least remember that they’d confiscated his feral arm for further study. The only consolation was that through yesterday’s nightmare, Renji had stayed at his side the whole time, hadn’t left him alone there.

Rather amazingly, Kurotsuchi had released Ichigo from his clutches, despite the prime opportunity for keeping him locked up in his lab to be probed and perhaps dissected, kept under observation in case he cracked and went on a murderous frenzy like the other affected soldiers had, but the captain and a few other scientists had judged that the toxin itself had somehow been contained in the arm Renji had amputated; the rest of him was fine. Ichigo had been judged mentally sound and was sent home to rest.

Now that he was back however, and all the action was over, Ichigo sat around in a stupor, likely still in shock — which was probably why Renji was worrying over him so much, and further, probably why Ichigo was letting him.

He didn’t know what to feel exactly other than drifting through rather dazedly, distant somehow. Ichigo knew he was going to get his arm back eventually, so that was somewhat of a comfort, and Renji had done his best to console him and take care of him in that following day, to make sure he ate and checked that he wasn’t in too much pain, but as time went by, it was hard not to be discouraged.

Because when he tried to do things by himself, it was then that he realized no matter whether or not he would get his arm back soon, it couldn’t be soon enough. It was really _hard_ to do most things with one arm. 

No matter how much Renji was clearly hesitant to leave him by himself like this, he’d needed to go back to work. Ichigo had finally convinced him to go, having become irritated with him when it took an unnecessarily long time to insist that he would be fine for a few hours and that if Renji skipped work to take care of him, he’d be scolded by Byakuya. Renji had gone, clearly unhappy about it, but if Ichigo knew him, he wouldn’t be alone for long. There was no way Renji wouldn’t ask Rikichi or some other subordinate to drop in and check on him throughout the day.

In any case, being alone and unable to do any of the usual things he’d do to pass the time, it gave Ichigo a lot of time to think. Bumming around in Renji’s house, he remembered what he’d heard the Division Twelve guys say last night.     _‘You were hit with the same thing those other guys were hit with, but your mind was immune to the toxin-induced psychosis. It’s why you stayed awake. You have a hollow in there already.’_

“Only thing you’re good for,” Ichigo muttered. Shiro snorted in reply, if a little weakly.

They’d assured him that he was alright to be unsupervised, enough so to be sent home, but somehow he still felt uneasy. Things were still clearly off-kilter. Shirosaki was acting strangely, and of course things weren’t going to feel the same with a limb missing. Most importantly, it was impossible to feel at ease when one has been told they’ve been infected with the same toxin that had caused two men to murder their friends in the past days. How could he trust himself again, even more so after he’d already almost killed his dear friend and comrade, and newly made boyfriend.

God, he kept reliving it, could still feel the phantom sensation of clenching his hand into a fist around Renji’s throat, felt his adam's apple and the ridges of his the vertebrae in his neck against his fingers, and most of all, he felt the heartbeat pounding against his palm, could _see his face turning first red and then pale —_ it was horrible.

Another thing they’d told him was that he should’ve come in sooner, that they could have done some tests, put him under observation, maybe stopped the blood fever before anyone could’ve been harmed. What they hadn’t said was that they still probably wouldn’t have been able to save his arm. They just would’ve had to imprison him for everyone’s safety; Ichigo knew this.

They had nothing. They knew it was a venom of some sort, but since they knew nothing about the source of it, they couldn’t make any anti-venom. Perhaps they could do so with part of his old arm. They didn’t understand why the venom, whatever it was, affected only the injection site and didn’t spread through the blood to the rest of the body.

In any case, they were going to try to stop any more murders occurring. There were still apparently one or two more people out there suspected of being infected.

“At least I got off easy.” Ichigo says it, but he doesn’t feel it. Even trying to keep his spirits up, repeatedly telling himself that it’s just a temporary inconvenience, he felt sad, felt wrong in his own body, missing something that _should be there,_ almost able to feel where it had once been, wanting to move it and being unable to.

_'Why are you talking like it’s over?’_

“You think it’s not? How can it not be,” Ichigo demanded, but his Hollow went stubbornly quiet until he changed the subject.

Since he was by his lonesome and unable to do much one-handed, he talked with Zangetsu for a time, tried to take his mind off the foul parts of last night. There wasn't much to say when they discussed what happened — if Shirosaki had any more idea of what had happened, he wasn't telling him.

Instead, they talk about Renji. As much as he tried to hide it, Shirosaki clearly had some fond feelings towards Renji too, which Ichigo was glad for, but well, he should’ve expected it really, since he and Shirosaki were of one spirit, and if he could grow to love Renji then they both would. He was glad that Renji hadn’t been scared away and that he was being supportive in this time, at least so far.

“I probably shouldn’t be here, should I. Not right now. I mean, the arm’s gone, but I can’t be sure that… I can’t be sure,” Ichigo murmured.

 _‘Hey, you wanted someone strong who could stand at your side through any of the crazy shit that always happens to you. So let him.’_  
  


       “Yeah,” he said. “I just didn’t want him to be hurt.”

  


       Tired of laying around, Ichigo got up and paced the house, and while he was on his own, he closed himself in the bathroom and took his clothes off one-handed, careful and slow. He can’t fold them like this, but he puts them together in a pile and then got in for a shower. It’s a challenge washing himself and soaping his hair with only one hand, all while keeping his bandages out of the water, but he was in no rush. Rinsing some stubborn dried blood that still stuck to his side, Ichigo thought of Renji some more.

If not for the whole psychotic arm incident, last night had been going so well. He still felt it was rather surreal, to know that Renji liked him, to know that the two of them had kissed.

Admittedly, if Ichigo thinks on it, he did like a lot about Renji despite how much he always complains of being annoyed by him. He likes his stupid sense of humor, his friendliness, his loyalty and bravery, and he was also very handsome too, if Ichigo was honest.

Eventually, head hanging under the spray, Ichigo attempted to masturbate — because he’s stressed out, okay —  but after a few minutes struggling, he soon realized that he couldn’t jerk off with his left hand. Well, he could, but he couldn’t keep a rhythm and grip well enough that he could get himself there. This isn’t his masturbating hand!

“Shit,” he said aloud. _‘ Shit-fuck.’_

So what then, he didn’t get to cum until he got a new arm? He could try to find another solution but hell if he wanted to cum in the cold embrace of a shampoo bottle! What was he supposed to do? He can’t live like this long-term! He’s a young guy and jerking off helps him sleep!

 _‘Looks like you have to rut on a pillow from now on,’_ Shirosaki commented with some amount of pity. Ichigo groaned. Ah, he hated doing that.      _‘Unless you wanna’ ask for help.’_

_‘Ha-ha. Sure.’_

His irritation only grew when he turned the water off and attempted to towel himself off and get dressed, finding it was nearly impossible. He can’t tie a knot to close his clothes in front. Earlier, he couldn't feed himself either. Well he can, but he can’t make himself a real meal.

He hated this, he absolutely hated it, being this helpless.

He has to get Orihime. He knew she’s healed Grimmjow’s arm back then. Ichigo just hopes she can come on short notice.

Ichigo looked down at his bare front and sighed, shoving his hips against the sink to hold his yukata still while he pinched it shut with his hand, then attempting slowly to tie the knot again. He growled aloud when he failed. Is he going to be stuck like this until Renji comes back?  
  


“Ichigo? [ Are you in there? ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UYEIf1nSbJI)”  
  


Ichigo picked his head up and felt a conflicted sense of panic, irritation, and relief. “Rukia, what are you doing here?” he called through the bathroom door.

“Renji was worried about you. He told me what happened last night and asked me to check on you.” He felt a little bad that she’d gone to the trouble, but was glad not to be alone, despite the humiliation. “Come out,” she demanded, voice shrill with worry as she knocked on the door sharply.

“I… can’t,” he grumbled.

“What? How come?”

“...” Ichigo gave a long sigh. “I took a shower and can’t get dressed again.”

“Why not?”

“Why do you think, the one hand thing!” he blurted hotly. Rukia began to laugh then, and Ichigo let his forehead fall onto the door with a grumble.

“Just come out, don’t be modest.”

“Don’t fuck around!” he shouted, but he did open the door, mouth twisted in a grimace. Rukia laughed at his predicament, the way he held his robe closed in the front and pursed his lips. He tried to take the loss of dignity with grace, and since it was a better alternative than laying around naked until Renji came home, he let her tie his belt for him and tuck his shirt in once he got his hakama situated.

“I feel like a baby,” Ichigo groaned, stuffing his face on the lunch she made him.

“That’s because you are,” Rukia scolded. “Just be glad I came to check on you and not poor Rikichi.”

“Or Renji. He’d’ve never let me live that one down.”

“What makes you think I will,” she said slyly, and Ichigo flopped onto his back on the floor, cramming the rest of his sandwich in his mouth. Rukia chortled lightly, settling by his side and entertaining him with a little mahjong set she’d brought. Ichigo picked at the tiles one-handed, scowling his discontent, but feeling much better.

He was still embarrassed, but once she’d stopped teasing him and laughing at his expense, she helped him out and kept him company with little complaint.


	8. Chapter 8

Yumichika doesn’t remember if he’s ever felt lower than he does now, if he’s ever hurt more or felt more ashamed.

Ikkaku, his dearest friend, [ had tried to kill him. ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LT7kqKwUOo4)

After slinking away from the captain’s heated gaze — _god,_ _how humiliating was it that the captain had had to come and rescue him —_ he’d hid away to lick his wounds and, although he’d deny it, have a good cry too.

He didn’t know what he was going to do when he next had to face Ikkaku, not after he’d humiliated him in front of most of the squad and the captain to boot like that. He didn’t know what to do when a relationship had come to that point, where things have been damaged so badly that one has tried to kill the other. He didn’t know what to feel, whether he was the one who should be upset, betrayed, or whether he should apologize, plead for Ikkaku to forgive him and give him another chance. He felt panicked at the thought that he had lost Ikkaku.

He’s been the only one Yumichika’s lived for and followed for the past century. Through it all, Ikkaku has been the only one he’s cared about. If he lost him, Yumichika didn’t think there’d be anything left of him, any reason to go on. All that he’s done, all that he’s been, all of it will be made pointless.

Ruri’iro was in quite the pet over it, squawking and kicking up a fuss, raging endlessly about the nerve of that boy to lose his temper so and use Houzukimaru for such foolishness, that bastard, that fool, fool, _fool,_ trying to hurt his master, who’d sacrificed so much for so long to please such a worthless man. If Ruri’iro had his way, he would make him sorry he’d ever tried to lay a finger on his poor master, his precious chickling. Despite many hours passing with Ruri grumbling and cursing, he drew no response, no agreement from his partner. Yumichika went through the day rather numbly, despondent in the face of Ruri’s nervous energy.

 _‘He tried to kill me. What did I do? God, what did I do? Why are things like this? How can I make this stop, how can I make it right?’_ Yumichika thought dazedly, the pain of a heart put under pressure building inside him. _‘He tried to kill me. He would have. He really would have, I saw it in his face.’_

 _‘That’s enough, Yumichika. Don’t waste your tears on that silly boy a moment longer. I’ve always told you what a fool he is, what a worthless man you’ve devoted your life to. You must turn your back on him,’_ Ruri’iro scolded, but Yumichika knew he didn’t mean it. He never did. Yumichika knows that Ruri held a great resentment for Ikkaku, but Ruri’iro Kujaku loved Houzukimaru far too much to mean what he said whenever he told Yumichika to pull away from Ikkaku.

 _‘What were you thinking, you silly thing — were you truly going to let him cut you down like that?’_ Yumichika gave a limp shrug.   _‘That look on your face, that fear that comes over your expression right before you expect you’ll die, it’s truly hideous.’_

 _‘If he was so determined to kill me, perhaps he was right to try. Perhaps I should have let him,’_ Yumichika thought, thoroughly entrenched in self-pity by then.   _‘In any case, I thought you liked it. You certainly said so before, when you escaped and terrorized me some years ago.’_

_‘Horse-feathers! I was enjoying some retribution for the many decades you’ve kept me cooped up. It’s some silly nonsense to think I’d like anyone else to see that expression, least of all that brutish lout.’_

_‘I love him. You know I do,’_ Yumichika thought, clenching his eyes shut. _‘More than you love Houzukimaru.’_

_‘It’s not a contest. And no, you don’t.’_

_‘Nevermind that. But you understand, there’s nothing he could do, no matter how horrible, that could make me stop.’_

_‘It’s true. We’re so alike that it disgusts me,’_ Ruri’iro scoffed. _‘But the difference is that Houzukimaru deserves my devotion, because he loves me in return. He would never harm me, Yumichika, never. He would never so much as hurt my feelings, and do you see how much pain that stubborn fool has caused us.’_

_‘I’ve loved him. Oh, how I’ve loved him, and look at how he’s come to hate me.’_

_‘Will you_ stop _pining for such a hopelessly stupid boy — I’ve listened to you waste away over him for so long and I’m bored to sobs with it. I hate him so! I mean it, Yumichika, if I have to look upon that face of his one more time, I’m going to pull my feathers out.’_ Yumichika lifted his head, giving a long sigh and standing so he could pat down his disheveled appearance. _‘I mean it, I really do. You’d better give him such a scolding when he shows his face. If you won’t let me rout him myself, then you’d better make him sorry.’_

“I should be sorry.” Yumichika cleared his throat, not liking how scratchy and pathetic his normally smooth and composed voice came out.

_‘For what, pray tell? Did my eyes deceive me? I thought he attempted to strike you down in front of your subordinates not long ago with little to no provocation.’_

“Well, provocation or not, he clearly thinks I’ve done something to slight him, to get that kind of reaction. . . I’ve never seen him lose his temper like that. He was like a wild beast.”

 _‘There, you see? What have I always told you.’_ Yumichika hung his head and placed a hand to his cheek. Still damp.   _‘Oh, go wash your face. You’re a pathetic mess.’_

Yumichika did, and with what dignity he had left, crept around the barracks and, after cleaning himself up, did some paperwork in the captain’s office. The doors to the engawa were open, and Zaraki-Taichou came by after awhile and napped out there, but Yumichika suspected he was actually keeping watch. He turned his face away in silence, thinking he might die of the shame.

_‘Yumichika. Have you considered there may be a connection between that fool’s uncouth behavior and the killings going on of late?’_

Yumichika has considered this, and the thought terrified him. For one, none of the murderers had been stopped until after they’d brutally killed their closest friend. If this were the case with Ikkaku and the change in mood was an early sign, Yumichika didn’t know what he was meant to do from here. From what had been reported, there hadn’t been any noticeable change in personality in the killers beforehand. It had been sudden, merciless, quick, a bout of insanity and bloodlust that was only cooled once their loved one was dead by their own hand.

If this is what was happening to Ikkaku, and Yumichika didn’t think it was, he didn’t know what to do next anyways. Report him and have him confined for his own safety and that of everyone around him? If it turned out to be a mistake and Ikkaku was sane, just enraged, if it was just a case of Ikkaku trying to kill Yumichika because he _hated_ him and not because of the blood fever that had struck those two other shinigami, he certainly wasn’t going to be too happy if they tried to lock him up. Yumichika didn’t think he could confront Ikkaku again. He was clearly at the point of explosion.

_‘That can’t be what it is. It’s not like the others. All of those incidents happened quickly and without warning.’_

_‘But he’s been acting so strangely, Yumichika, you must realize that you’ve not deserved the way he’s treated you. He’s a slob and an uncultured lug but I have never seen him be so cruel. Surely…’_

_‘I know you want to explain it away, Ruri’iro, but it’s true… He must hate me. I must have done something to deserve his turning on me like this.’_

_‘Nonsense.’_

_‘I never should have told him about you. Everything’s been ruined.’_

_‘You don’t know that,’_ Ruri’iro shot back bitterly, but with a rather weak note of protest. Yumichika never missed how crushed he sounded when he hinged Ikkaku’s presence in his life on hiding his true nature, when he belittled and scorned Ruri’iro and placed him as second best to Ikkaku. But how could he not. Ikkaku was the man he loved more than his own life. What wouldn’t he hide, what wouldn’t he destroy, even if it was the most basic and innate part of himself, of his soul.

_‘I do know it. He never treated me this way before he knew about you.’_

_‘All that was some time ago now. He accepted me. After he knew, he began treating you so tenderly. He accepted me, he_ did.'

 _‘I thought he did. But I should have known he never really could love you. How could he love me when I have someone like you dragging me down.’_ Yumichika grit his teeth, and for the thousandth time, the ten-thousandth time, he hurled cruel words, intended to hurt, to sting. He’s always been a bitter wicked thing that way.    _‘After all I’ve sacrificed, you’re still there, ruining it all in the end.’_

Just as cold and bitter, Ruri’iro cut him back deeper. _‘Yes. You sacrificed so much. But when will you see, Yumichika, that after all you hid of yourself, after all you destroyed of the two of us, after all you have done to hurt and deny and humiliate me, it didn’t matter to him. It wasn’t good enough.’_

 _‘I won’t listen to you.’_ He won’t. He won’t accept that his deepest darkest fears whispered by the one who knows him the best could possibly be true. He can’t accept that, not after all he’s sacrificed, not after so many years tempering his resolve. It was impossible to accept without breaking apart at the seams.

_‘Nothing you could possibly do would be good enough. Ikkaku simply will not love you.’_

Yumichika pressed his lips together and ignored him, despite the way Ruri’iro makes a point to never call Ikkaku by his name.

“You don’t know anything, Fuji Kujaku,” he hissed, ignoring the infuriated shriek he received for the insult, the one he has not uttered since his true power had been revealed to Ikkaku.

He cringed when he felt Ikkaku’s reiatsu, hot and troubled, rolling through the building. At a sudden clatter, he looked up, finding him standing there in the doorway, drenched in sweat and panting, leaning on the door he’d just shoved roughly through the shuttle. He must’ve finished running his laps.

Yumichika drops his gaze immediately, turning away from him, his heart stuttering in his chest. In so doing, he caught sight of Captain Zaraki looking over his shoulder at them suspiciously. From what Yumichika could tell, whatever Ikkaku had been upset about before, he’d cooled off, was playing like nothing had happened yet again. It confused him even more that Ikkaku was still acting that way even though there’d been witnesses to his strange outbursts this time.

His shoulders flinch up about his ears when Ikkaku came in wordlessly and sat beside him, a few feet away, but nearby, and seemed to wait. After collecting himself, Yumichika slid him a stack of papers and tried not to look towards him.

He met the captain’s eye again and was met with Zaraki-Taichou’s incredulous expression turned on Ikkaku, as if he truly thought he had completely lost his mind. Yumichika let out a sigh through his nose, legs folded under him primly as he carefully scanned the captain’s documents.

_‘I just can’t understand how he’s acting. It’s as if he was never angry. Look at him sitting there like this afternoon never happened.’_

_‘Yes, look at him. Do you see even a speck of guilt on him? No. He’s not even sorry. Would you stop worrying about what he thinks already. Perhaps you might forgive him if he apologized and meant it, but just look at how little he cares.’_

_‘He doesn’t seem upset now. If he’s decided to forgive me, then I shouldn’t complain. Perhaps I’ve gotten lucky that he’s come back.’_

_‘He’s a snake, Yumichika. He’s hurt you — as he has many times before.’_

_‘I don’t care. I love him. Oh, how I love him.’_

_‘It is not enough, Yumichika.’_

_‘It has to be.’_

_  
    ‘It is not enough.’ _

  


. . .

  


By the time Renji came home from work and opened the door to find Ichigo there all alone, he felt awful, which was saying something, because he’d worried about the kid all day, had some half-baked daydream running round in his head of Ichigo slipping and falling somehow, not that it was any more likely that would happen considering losing an arm had nothing to do with taking a fall.

Even with his mind on it all day, he hadn’t fully considered how much trouble Ichigo would have in his condition, and he realized now when he saw Ichigo laid out on the couch, asleep, his single hand fisted above his stomach, a loud gurgle rising out of it even now. He must not have been able to make anything for himself. Hadn't Rukia come to check on him?

   “Poor bastard,” he muttered.

 _‘Poor little child,’_ Zabimaru echoed twice in agreement, which only made Renji sigh and head immediately over to the sleeping boy.

Ichigo woke up when Renji shook him gently, careful not to jostle his wounded side. He sat the sleepy kid up and tried to feed him as quick as he could, frowning in dismay when he sat across the kotatsu from him and watched him fumble one-handed to try and pick up his chopsticks to feed himself. He had to quell the impulse to reach out and place them in Ichigo’s hand, knowing that he wouldn’t appreciate the help.

“Have you been alone all day? You should’ve gone and found someone, or… called me or something,” Renji mumbled, but really, he blamed himself for leaving him alone. He should’ve brought him with him to the office, despite the inevitable distraction Ichigo would pose.

“No,” Ichigo hummed absently, at last getting his grip on the chopsticks and immediately snapping them into his bowl of rice, overfilled rather haphazardly by Renji; the kid’s filled out some over the years, but he’s still too skinny! Renji watched as he shoveled a few bites into his mouth until his cheeks bulged.

“Rukia came over to help me with lunch. I tried to make something for dinner but I couldn’t,” he grumbled begrudgingly. Renji knew that Ichigo must have already tried, because he’d found a mess in his little kitchen when he’d gone in, but it still felt deeply _wrong_ to hear Ichigo have to say it out loud. He could hear how hard it was for him, how sensitive his pride was.

For once, he decided not to tease, but it was only because he was still so spooked from last night. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Ichigo cry like that, and having to hurt him — god, his _scream_ — it was haunting. It had really scared him. He didn’t feel it was right to tease, even if it would be really easy to rile him up, with Ichigo so on edge.

Of course, he couldn’t just leave Ichigo be, because the kid needed help, as humiliated as he clearly was.

Luckily enough, when Renji didn’t make a big deal about it or screw around, Ichigo didn’t fuss other than scowling and silently bearing through it with a tight set to his jaw and his eyes cast down.

“There,” Renji mumbled after tying Ichigo’s robe shut in front, having had to help dress him for bed. Ichigo lay down on his futon and turned away from him, his shame making him petulant and sulky, and Renji let out a long sigh, taking out his ponytail and brushing his hair.

He glanced to Ichigo, who’d since settled on his back with his eyes closed, the familiar clench still there in his brow, the ever-serious expression set into his face. If he were really honest, he liked to help Ichigo out. He didn’t like the situation that had brought about the necessity of it, but he supposed Ichigo would never allow it otherwise, so he might as well enjoy it while he had it.

He hoped it was all taken well at least, and not with a sense of pity. He wouldn’t want Ichigo to think he was being pitied — because he loved him, lying there, miserable and sticking his lip out, ever-scowling. He loved him and wanted to be close to him, wanted to be the person to be at his side when he truly needed a shoulder to lean on, or quite literally, helping hands. Ichigo has always been that person for him, and Renji wants the kid to feel like he can count on him too, when he needs to.

At least he wasn’t fighting him at every step. Ichigo seemed to be taking it with dignity, but he clearly didn’t like it, being helpless like this.  
  


_‘I damn well wouldn’t like it either. Besides, he’s so young to have to go through this sort of thing. I’ve gotta’ try to keep his spirits up — I know how down he gets. Shit, in his situation, what would make me feel better…’_

_‘A night of vigorous mating?’_ Zabimaru suggested, and Renji nearly spat aloud.

_‘It was a rhetorical question! What the hell are you thinking, anyway?! Geez!’_  
  


“What’s wrong with you?” Ichigo murmured, single arm thrown over his forehead. Renji startled and grunted that it was nothing, quickly changing his uniform and going to scrub himself in the bathroom. When he returned, Ichigo lay quietly, at first appearing to be asleep, but on closer observation, he was just lying still, blinking slowly at the wall. He looked so desolate like that, so very alone.

_‘But you’re not. ‘Cuz I’m here, if you’ll let me be.’_

Renji scooted a little closer, taking his hairbrush, and tentatively touched it to the top of Ichigo’s head. Ichigo didn’t move, lying very still, perhaps even tensing under his hand, but he didn't pull away, and Renji gave the brush a few strokes over his head, through his short hair, watching as the fluffy tufts scattered beneath the bristles.

He let his other hand sweep behind the hairbrush, smoothing his palm against Ichigo’s scalp, and saw that he’d closed his eyes, his body heaving a great sigh. Very slowly, he leaned down, and pressed a kiss to Ichigo’s forehead, just above his eyebrow.

“G’night,” Ichigo murmured, the lines in his face having smoothed out into an expression of contentment, and he loves him, he loves him, he loves him. Renji let out a little huff of breath, smiling fondly.  
  


   “Night, sport.”

 

. . .  


 

When Ichigo woke up, he felt a little better insofar as his mental state was concerned. He was in a passably better mood, but his body was sore today, achy, _throbbing._ It sucks.

His arm hurt, and he kept trying to clench and stretch his hand to ease the ache, but it wasn’t there anymore. He kept making to close his fist, and then looked towards it in confusion, feeling a jolt of surprise each time he saw the empty space. It just sucks.

Renji sets out his medicine and some towels, wet and warmed up, to soothe his wound. To Ichigo’s great relief, through some sort of wordless communication, Renji knows not to talk to him any time he was accepting his help, knows not to rub it in that he’s so helpless. He doesn’t rub salt in the wound, so to speak — which is good, because Ichigo’s embarrassed, not only with his current situation of needing to be taken care of, but how Renji must think of him now, after seeing him cry and whine so pitifully. He must’ve seemed so pathetic. He’s sure that if it were Renji, he wouldn’t have cried.

When it was time for Renji to go to work, he hung around expectantly, pulling on his ear and his hair until Ichigo figured out what he was waiting for and kissed him goodbye, a little flustered himself, until they parted and he saw the dreamy, goofy smile on Renji’s face. Ichigo smiled back a little, and that pathetic feeling was gone. To his surprise, it felt so easy for them to be like that with each other, to smile at each other and to kiss goodbye — it felt so natural. Less natural was the way he’d had to let Renji help tie up his pants and shoes before he went, so that if he wanted to venture out of the house, he would be dressed, but then we all have our burdens.

After their parting kiss, they’d separated, and once a few boring hours had passed, Ichigo wandered out to the Twelfth, because he wants to know when he can get his arm fixed. He’s already had quite enough of his experience being an amputee. It’s absolute hell.

It was as he suspected. They can’t figure out what to do with his flesh other than contain it. Ichigo’s known it all along, but now it was a sure thing. They need Orihime to try to reject his injury, because who knew when they would figure things out, and he can’t go on with one arm indefinitely like that.

He had a lot of time to think with nothing else to do, and in his troubled state, he started to think about the relationship he and Renji had planned to start. It wasn’t that Renji hadn’t been earnest — he’d been painfully sincere about it, in fact, more serious about it than Ichigo’s hardly seen him be about anything other than rescuing Rukia all that time ago. It’s just that this whole thing has sort of woken him up out of what he saw now was a ridiculous dream. Even this morning, kissing each other — sure, it was nice, but he was kidding himself if he thought that was enough to make things okay. He didn’t know how this could work between them, not long-term.

Maybe he’d been naive, but he didn’t know now why he’d ever thought that there was a person in the world who could ever be with him. After all, he’d told Renji that if he did find love, he’d drive himself crazy trying to make sure they were safe. In that case, he was meant to be alone.

He’d said he had feelings for Renji, and so he did, but he didn’t know how this would ever last, not without one of them getting badly hurt. He can’t see it ending well. If he was the hero everyone says he is, the hero so rarely gets a happily ever after in real life, it’s part of the burden he had to bear, and he’d been a fool, a foolish teenager with a happy delusional heart, thinking that he could ever be in love without the bill coming due eventually. He just hadn’t expected it to happen so fast.  
  


       When Renji came to check up on him later, eating his lunch with him outside in the courtyard under the trees, teasing and playing with him as usual to rile him up, Ichigo found he couldn’t stand that look in Renji’s eyes, couldn’t stand how much care and fondness was there, even after he’d _choked him,_ _almost murdered him — didn’t he realize that next time Ichigo might succeed? —_ he found he couldn’t stand that warm gleam in Renji’s smile, and decided to bring it up. He figured it was better to say that kind of thing as soon as possible. If he let this folly go on, that look would only get more intense over time, wouldn’t it, it would only hurt Renji worse to string him along just because he wasn’t strong enough to send him away. It wouldn’t be right to lead him on — he had to tell him his doubts now and cut him free.

 _‘Hey, hey, what is this, a pity party?’_ Shirosaki scolded him sourly.

    _‘I’m not pitying myself. I’m just being grown up — making hard choices. Doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to be sad about it,’_ Ichigo shot back defensively. _‘You don’t have to be such a jerk, this is hard enough already…’_

_‘King, I dunno’ what you think you’re doing, but c’mon, I was enjoying the weather in here. Enough with the fucking rain already. Don’t send him away.’_

_‘Look, I don’t trust us, okay? I don’t trust myself. The people around me get hurt. They always have. That means the one I care for most of all is the one I should keep farthest away.’_

_‘You wanted someone who could stand at your side despite that kind of risk,’_ Zangetsu said seriously.

_‘Having him by my side isn’t worth seeing him die. Maybe not this time, but it’ll happen someday. It’s better that we don’t get any closer than we are. I thought it could work but… I don’t think it’s a good idea. I was being selfish.’_

_‘I know you're shaken up over what we did, but don’t insult him by treating him like a weakling or a little kid. You always hate when people do that to you and act like you don’t understand the risk you’re undertaking. He knew what he was doing when he told you how he feels. He understood that risk. Are you going to spit on him now by turning him away? I thought you cared about him the way he cares about you.’_

_‘I do,’_ Ichigo admitted, and it was a scary thing to say, because he’d never said it before, never admitted it out loud, even in private with Shirosaki.     _‘That’s why this has to stop.’_

_‘Bullshit, it has to.’_

_‘Zangetsu-’_

_‘You’re scared. That’s all this is. You’re scared it’s going to all go to shit, well fuck that. You know as well as I do that anything worth having isn’t easy. You may be close in personality but the two of you are literally from different worlds. You should’ve been prepared for being together to be a fight.’_

_‘I’m tired,’_ Ichigo said desperately, feeling horribly fragile for a moment, like he might break. _‘I’m tired of fighting. When do I get to stop? When do I get to be normal?’_

 _‘King,’_ Zangetsu said firmly, but with some amount of gentleness, _‘That was all a mirage. The dream you had of going home and living in peace, you’ll never have it as long as you keep trying to be a hero. So stop. And let yourself be happy. Be selfish for once, and give it a go with him. We’re young, you and me, and you shouldn’t be wasting our time worrying.’_

 _‘I can’t shirk my responsibility. People count on me. It’s peacetime, sure, but I can’t leave it behind.’_ He grit his teeth, because suddenly, he hated that he had that burden, hated that he felt he couldn’t let it go.   

_‘It’s not fair, I’ve carried this for so long — It’s been four years since Aizen’s defeat but there’s always something else. When do I get to rest and be carefree again? When am I allowed to go back to the way I was? Why can’t I just-...’_

Ichigo sighed and hung his head. He hated it when he let the pressure get to him like this. Usually he only had these kinds of breakdowns when he was alone, because Rukia would smack him for it if he said it out loud.

 _‘It’s not fair,’_ he murmured sadly, because he had to back away, and he didn’t want to. He’d wanted to give things a try with Renji, really he had — the adventure of it had excited him, but ever since he’d become a shinigami-daikou all those years ago, he’d always been hero first and Ichigo second. And that meant that in order to protect, he had to give up the things he wanted a lot of the time.

But it hurt this time. It was so unfair and upset him so much that he could hardly bear it. He doesn’t want this to end, not before it had hardly started. But he has to back away now. He has to. He won’t be able to live with himself otherwise. If something were to happen… he’d never forgive himself. He’d carry that guilt for the rest of his life.

_‘You’re just scared. You’re scared and you’re pushing him away, but King, don’t be stupid. You don’t have to be alone.’_

_‘You could never understand.’_  
  


_‘Don’t make us be alone.’_  
  
  


     “Aw Ichigo,” Renji muttered, nudging him when he didn’t say anything for a long time, staring out across the yard at the distant roofs and peaks spread across the Seireitei beyond the Division Six barracks. “Try to keep positive. Of course you’re gonna’ be feeling a little down after what happened, but it’s only for a little while. We’ll get through this.”  Taking a breath, Renji tried to reassure him, unbearably tender, “Everything’s gonna’ be okay.”

“I know,” Ichigo said shortly, to which Renji closed his mouth, watching him. He reached a hand out and placed it over Ichigo’s. He bowed his head a little, sighing roughly and pulling his hand away, not lifting his gaze to see the way Renji’s face would surely fall in disappointment. “It’s not that. I don’t think this is gonna’ work, Renji. Us.”

“What do you mean?” Renji said sharply, his voice growing almost immediately harsh. “Don’t even start, I know exactly what you’re doing. God damnit, I _knew_ you would do this. I swear, if you insult me by telling me you’re too dangerous and that you have to keep me safe, I’m gonna’ punch you in the mouth, I swear I will, I don’t care about hitting an injured man, Ichigo. I’ve had enough of your martyr complex.”

Ichigo grit his teeth and shot him a glare. “Martyr complex, huh? I’m a martyr because I’m afraid I’m gonna' to kill you? Renji, I really might! I almost did!”

“I won’t let that happen. So don’t talk like I should be afraid of you. Because I’m not. This doesn’t change anything,” Renji said stubbornly, and there’s something in Ichigo’s chest that twinged with those words, twisted and ached with bittersweet pain.

Snapping at him, Ichigo clenched his brow, words dark and wrenched, coming from a place of hurt and fear, “Does it mean _anything_ to you that I almost choked you to death, and I couldn’t even stop myself? That I had to sit there and feel myself squeezing your neck until your bones were almost popping in my fist, and I couldn’t make my hand let go?” He felt a sick sort of satisfaction seeing Renji’s expression contort in guilt, in surprise, because he wants Renji to know how much that weighed on his soul, how _frightened_ he was.   “Because it bothers _me._ It’s giving me goddamn nightmares,” he bit out, “What if it had come true — if it had, right now, you’d be dead. I could’ve taken you away from Rukia, from everyone, _forever.”_

“It wasn’t your fault,” Renji said seriously, although Ichigo’s earnest and wrenched explanation of his worries had softened his earlier rage and promise to hit him if he kept it up. “It was an accident, Ichigo, you didn’t mean it, I know that…”

“That doesn’t make it better. It’s worse, in fact. I couldn’t stop myself…” Ichigo put his hand to his brow, biting his lips. “I think we should call it quits now, before… Look, maybe that whole thing was a sign, okay?”

“I thought you didn’t believe in shit like signs.”

Ichigo sighed and turned his face into his palm. “You’re right,” he said. “You’re right.”  And when Shirosaki murmured plaintively about the rain again, so glum that it twisted him up in knots, Ichigo told him in a rare burst of vulnerability, “I’m freaked out, okay? That was… _hard,_ for me. I keep seeing myself doing it and it tears me up. I’m afraid I’m gonna’ do it again. I couldn’t let go. You were trying to breathe, but I couldn’t let go.”

Renji tried to touch him again, drawing closer and placing a hand on his shoulder, his back, rubbing him in a bit of awkward comfort. “It just made me start thinking… I just don’t know how this’ll work,” Ichigo murmured, already feeling himself weakening, because he likes Renji back, he does, and he wants to be selfish, wants to trust Renji — _trust that Renji can_ _protect himself from him_ — wants to see where this leads between them. He doesn’t want to do the adult thing, the thing the hero would do, sacrifice his own feelings for the safety of the one he cares about. He didn’t want it to be over before it started.   He wants to melt into the open arms and the warmth Renji’s heart provide, wants to be embraced and comforted and _loved._   

Maybe he really is still a kid, maybe that’s his naivety and innocence showing through, still there despite his years of hardship — because he wants to be loved, so desperately that he doesn’t think he can resist, doesn’t think he can do what the hero’s supposed to do, not this time.

“How do you _think_ it’ll work? Like it always does,” Renji scoffed, making light of his worries, but Ichigo knew he only did it to ease the pain out of this difficult moment. “We’ve been friends for this long, haven’t we? We get along great when you’re not annoying me,” he joked, but Ichigo didn’t laugh. “C’mon, there’s something between us. Don’t you feel it too?” Renji coaxed.

Uncertain, Ichigo shifted a little, drawing his knees up, resting his arm across them and putting his chin there, dejected. “Yeah, but…”

“Look Ichigo, I’ve thought about this for a long time. You’re a human and I’m not. We live in different worlds, and… Well, I’m gonna’ have to watch you grow old while I stay the same. It’s hard for me to accept that. One day you’re gonna’ die. I know you are,” Renji sighed, as if the idea of it pained him. Ichigo looked up at him for a second and the faraway look on his face, not having realized that Renji thought about and worried about those kinds of things. He hadn’t considered it until now. “And when you do, we all know that if we find you, you’ll probably be made a captain right away. You’re gonna’ be spending centuries with me anyways.”

“Who says you’ll find me,” he grumbled, perhaps a bit petulantly. “There’s no way you will. I'm not special, I'll lose my memory like any other Plus.”

“You are special."

"Well what if."

"I won’t stop searching,” Renji said. “I won’t.”

“Oh, go pound sand!”

“I mean it. I don’t care how long it takes, I’ll find you.” Ichigo sighed, pressing his brow down into his forearm. This only made Renji more impassioned, shaking him by the shoulder and insisting, “You’re gonna’ be here in Seireitei. With me! And Rukia and all the rest! And once you are, you an’ me, we’re gonna’ be like Captain Kyoraku and Ukitake, standing together for millenia.” Ichigo snorted at the idea.

“I’m serious. Do you wanna’ spend that whole time wondering what coulda’ been?” Renji made him meet his eye then. “We’re soldiers, you an’ I. If one of us were to go without the other, wouldn’t we be torn apart wondering, now that we’ve crossed that line?”

“I’m _not_ a soldier,” Ichigo said with a hard set to his voice that made Renji draw back with his brow furrowed. Ichigo looked away. “And it’s never too late to go back,” he muttered lowly.  
  
  


   “It is for me.”

 

_‘King, look at him. Just goddamn look at him.’_  
  


_‘I’m looking,’_ he replied, dazed, feeling a bit of that same sense of wonder that he’d never heard in Shirosaki’s voice before. 

_‘Are you gonna’ say no to that face? Just look at his eyes…’_

Seeming trapped by Renji’s gaze, Ichigo stared helplessly into his face, taking in the earnest determination he found there.   “Can’t take my heart back once I give it,” Renji told him softly, and Ichigo knows then that he’s lost, that there’s no point in fighting. “It took me forty years for you to come and teach me the lesson that you have to fight for what you love. So no matter what comes, I’m gonna’ be brave. That’s why it doesn’t bother me. Because I know we’ll make it through. I know it.”

"You do, huh," Ichigo murmured. 

"Yeah," Renji says softly. "I'm gonna' make you believe like you did me." He smirked then, a tiny bit, when Ichigo kept staring with his lips parted. “I’m gonna’ woo you, Kurosaki. If it’s the last thing I do, I’ll sweep you off your feet.”

Ichigo meant to smile back so that the joke would come out as such, but found that all he could do was gape and breathe out, “Just you try."

Renji laughed then, a breathy pleased thing, and leaned towards him, and Ichigo can’t resist the feeling of their hearts so close together, he just can’t resist.

With a last laugh, Renji mumbled, “Well if that was an invitation…”

He kissed him then, holding Ichigo’s face in warm palms, and even though they’d agreed to take it slow between them, Renji poured a flood of passion into it, and Ichigo drank it up, he clung onto Renji’s body like he’s never clung onto anything before — he couldn’t let go.


	9. Chapter 9

Despite the tense nature of his disagreement with Ruri’iro and how badly he’s damaged the healing process their fragile relationship was struggling through, Yumichika has tried to take his advice, was attempting to be forgiving and patient towards Ikkaku as Ruri’iro had earlier suggested, and didn’t bring up the fight or murder attempt from yesterday.

Ikkaku follows at his heels throughout the morning, working at his side, acting as he always does, if a little clueless and needy. Other than that, there was no indication whatsoever that he remembered trying to kill him yesterday. In fact, he was very quiet and contemplative, daydreaming.

He was just glad that Ikkaku seemed to have cooled off, but it was rather terrifying, the sudden unpredictability of his temper. He felt sick over it, and rather sorry that he had bullied Ruri’iro before, wishing he had someone to talk it over with, to share his worries with without sacrificing his pride.

Ruri’iro didn’t give him the silent treatment however, too preoccupied to demand an apology from him for the offense. In fact, he seemed uncharacteristically meek. Yumichika tried to ignore his quiet fretting for some time, feeling this vague sense of anxiety and dread building on the horizon.  
  


At last he couldn’t stand it any longer and demanded, _‘What_ is _it?’_  
  


   _‘Houzukimaru,’_ Ruri’iro whispered.   _‘I can’t reach him. I went to look for him but he’s hiding from me. I can’t find him, Yumichika, not anywhere.’_

 _‘Now you see how it feels to be rejected by the one you love,’_ Yumichika scoffed bitterly, but without any real venom, just with a sense of defeat.

    _‘I can’t find him.   He’s gone.’_

 

. . .

 

Ikkaku had no idea what was going on. His subordinates have been shooting him dirty looks and the captain has been really short with him all day. He’s sure he’s not imagining it, and he can’t figure out what he’s done to deserve the cold shoulder. At least Yumichika wasn’t doing it; he’s been quiet, which was strange, but he hasn't been glaring at him like everyone else was.

He would try to talk to him and figure out what was up if he wasn’t feeling so strange himself. Ikkaku hasn’t been feeling right for a while now if he was honest. He didn’t want to acknowledge the immense sense of dread growing within him, didn’t want to face that he should ask for help because he couldn’t handle this on his own.

He thinks something serious might be going on with him, he really does, but he didn’t want to worry Yumichika, didn’t want to peeve the captain off even more or let him down, so Ikkaku kept it to himself for now. He wished Houzukimaru would talk to him at least. He didn’t often listen to the big guy’s advice, because he always told him to look inward and do self-reflection, and Ikkaku didn’t like doing that — _because he didn’t want to delve too deep and uncover guilt and insecurity and fear_ — but some of that advice would be welcome right about now, even if he told him shit he didn’t want to hear.

He just didn’t want to feel alone inside anymore, but he does. He does and he doesn’t know how to make it stop. Something… something’s about to happen, he can fẹ͈e̠̣̳̼̣̪ḽ̞̘̖̻̬͖ i̱̟̟̱t.̝̭̭̮̪͈͙  
  
  


_‘Houzukimaru, please…’_  
  
  


Eventually, Ikkaku couldn’t stand in anymore, snapping to his feet in a burst and staring around, swallowing hard. He has to leave.

He found Yumichika staring at him in alarm, cheeks pale as though from fright.     _‘But not of me,’_ Ikkaku knows, because there was no way that could ever happen. Silly even to think of it.

“Are you going to the mess hall?” Yumichika asked, rather meek about it, which wasn’t like him at all, but Ikkaku didn’t think on it.

He turned away and walked off, head down, eyes dark. “Yeah,” he said, voice lowering, husky and heavy with panting.

 

   “I’m starv͔̩̭̹̳͖̘i͇͇̼̻̮̟͉n̟̥g̠̠͈̩.̘”̜̙͇̘̜

 

. . .

  
  
  


_‘Why’d you have to make that stupid comment about mating, Zabimaru? It’s all I can goddamn think about now, thanks a lot.’_

_  
_ _‘Then it was clearly already on your mind.’_

  
_‘Yeah, well… Now I can’t stop!’_

 

Renji was a man in love, and was the sweetest kind of miserable. He’s spent all day at his desk aching and thinking about how he wants to make love with Ichigo. He hadn’t thought about it before, not really, too excited that Ichigo was really going to give him a chance to win his heart to think about much else, but now the thought was there — him and Ichigo, bare and wrapped together, tossing around his bed. How would his body flush, how would his face look when Renji pleasured him? Would he moan, breathy and sweet, or would he grit his teeth so the noises came out choked? Would he whimper, tremble, clench his eyes shut, _how would he feel on the inside_ — Renji can’t stop thinking about it.

 _‘Ahhh, I want to have sex,’_ he thought, and grumbled, flinging himself back in his chair, letting his head hang over the edge of it.   _‘I want to be with him.’_

But it’s much too soon. He _knew_ it was. They’d meant to take things slow and get to know each other, it’d been _his idea,_ wanting to approach Ichigo slowly so as not to spook him. He figured it would be a shock to confess to him just like that and thought he should coax him into a relationship gradually — give Ichigo time to fall in love with him too. It hadn’t crossed his mind to proposition Ichigo with anything of _that_ sort, but everything seemed different now with this crazy stuff happening — it felt like he had to hurry.

A lot of shit had gone through his mind when Ichigo had just choked him out of nowhere. He knows that Zanpakutou often take very strange shapes — after all, his own was a Nue — but Renji knows that Zangetsu is actually very simple; he’s a human boy, like Ichigo, powder-white, and kind of a jerk. Renji knows that, but he still thinks of him like they all had in the beginning, thinks of him _as a Hollow,_ and in that moment of panic, he’d thought he was pretty much fucked.

There’d been a lot of _‘well, this is how I die, choked to death by a kid finally gone psychotic from Hollow-brain.’_ If he’d been able to think through the panic of being unable to breathe, he’d been convinced it must have been that Hollow still sticking around, waiting for Ichigo to show a moment of weakness so it could take over. Ichigo never liked to talk about that guy skulking around in his inner world, but he’d mentioned some time ago that the two of them had a much better relationship now, that he’d been the true Zangetsu all along — Renji had never really gotten a great explanation or understanding of that whole situation.  
  


_‘Zangetsu is an ally. He would not hurt us,’_ Zabimaru reminds needlessly. _‘He was not to blame.’_

   _‘I know,’_ Renji muttered. _‘He’s just a shitty punk. Zangetsu — more like Zan-ketsu.’ _  Zabimaru made a chuffing noise.  
  


There’s no cause to worry on that score, and Renji knows that. It wasn’t down to Ichigo’s Hollow. It was much worse. It meant Ichigo had fallen victim to the same thing those other poor fools had, the ones who had gone insane, only to destroy someone they loved and wake up to find their hands bloody.

But Ichigo hadn’t had to wake up. He’d been awake the whole time, panicking, shaky and scared almost to tears that he couldn’t release Renji’s throat. He hadn’t lost his mind like the others had — apparently, the Hollow was the one to thank for that. Squatter’s rights or something.

Renji’s used to wild shit happening, has been ever since Ichigo’s come into his life, and maybe Ichigo was right about it being a wake-up call, being a sign. Renji just didn’t read it the same way he did. He didn’t take it as a sign to call it quits before one of them got hurt, he took it as a sign to live for the moment.

 

     It didn’t make him want to pull away — he wanted to move in, wanted it _hard._

 

_‘Cool off before you get ahead of yourself. You want to court the little one to be your mate, do you?’_

_‘Well… I wouldn’t say it in those words, but yeah. You’ve known how I feel about him for a long time. Don’t tell me to cool off now. You know I can’t.’_

_‘Zangetsu has always been a formidable opponent and a partner worthy of respect, and I will be pleased should you succeed in coupling with the boy, but Ichigo is young and innocent, and you and I are not. Should he accept you as a partner, you must undertake it with seriousness. You are a larger male and must approach gently so as not to frighten him,’_ Zabimaru warned him.

 _‘Ugh, Zabimaru, I know. I know how it works. We’re not animals.’_  
  


_‘Whatever you say, little boy, people are still animals.’_  
  


_‘Guhh.’_  
  


Renji's already considered all this. He was a lot older than Ichigo, and he's almost certainly a virgin, and after telling him they had all the time in the world to figure things out together, he knew it was a dick move to rush in, but… maybe it was just wishful thinking or a case of seeing what he wanted to see, but it seemed like Ichigo felt the same way for him, wanted him back.

Even if he didn’t feel this, this _fire,_ it wouldn’t hurt to ask, would it? Ichigo knew well enough whether or not he wanted to be with him, right?  
  
  


_‘If he shows hesitance, then you must court him until he becomes ready to mate.’_  
  


_‘Zabimaru, for fucksake.’_  
  
  


Renji’s had a very different bringing up than Ichigo has. Out in the Rukongai, boys became men once they were around fifteen or sixteen — or really, any age that they were old enough to father children themselves — and Renji has a hard time seeing it any other way. In his time in the living world, he’d learned from Ichigo that adulthood came at age _twenty,_ and a relationship any time before that with someone older than twenty was like that between a child and an adult.

He knew what it meant, of course, knew it was wrong. It’s not as if Renji hasn’t experienced this kind of thing himself when he was very young, his most horrible shameful memories, but no matter how he’s tried to keep an open mind to the culture of the living world, Renji can’t quite create a parallel between his feelings for Ichigo and the things that happened to him as a little boy. He doesn’t see how it’s the same for a man to prey on a kid, and for him to feel love for Ichigo, to feel passion for him. Ichigo may be a child compared to him maybe, but he isn’t a _little_ child. It isn’t as if Renji’s attraction to Ichigo was for the youthful childish parts of him, few that there still were. No, Ichigo was hard and lean and masculine all over.

Renji prided himself on his patience, his endurance, but he suddenly felt filled with a sense of _urgency._ If Ichigo wanted to wait, he would wait of course, and to the contrary, if Ichigo was _too_ eager, he ought to wait in that situation too, because even if he doesn’t think it _wrong_ that they should be together, he knows Ichigo is a young and sometimes rash boy, and Renji knew how horny young guys could be — and he wanted Ichigo to say yes because he loved him in return, not just so he could get his dick wet. He wanted to be with Ichigo intimately, he did, but he wants to be loved. He wants it to last. Ichigo ought to be _sure_ in his decision, not just say yes because he was the first thing that had come along wanting him.  He’d have to wait for a mature and sober assent — not that he’d turn his nose up if Ichigo showed the idea some enthusiasm.

God, he hoped that didn’t take too long though. Ichigo has given him this much of a chance, and he’d already gotten the opportunity of a lifetime in being able to kiss that wonderful boy, but Renji was itching to consummate the bond between them. The thought of deflowering Ichigo was following him everywhere.

Renji let out a heavy breath and palmed himself for a moment before sitting up and sighing. Look at him, getting himself so worked up.

He’d better do something about this soon, because this whole incident, while it had scared Ichigo and made him try to withdraw, it had affected Renji completely oppositely. Maybe it’s because he’s so unused to actually getting what he wants for once that he’s afraid he won’t be able to keep it — won’t be able to keep _him,_ and he’ll be left all alone again. It's amazing and frightening to have love within his grasp, he hardly knows what to do with it after so long on his own. He doesn't think he can bear losing it.

Ichigo might have been spooked, but Renji had been filled with a sense of urgency to get closer, and has realized that all the time he'd thought they had — it was up in the air.

     All they have is now.

  
. . .

 

      The urge to violate had become overwhelming. He can’t fight it anymore.

That night, he wandered out through the gates and followed a woman into the woods in the dark.

He attacked her when she bent at the water’s edge, held her head under as she writhed and thrashed, her hair a dark cloud under the surface. He took out her heart slow, gouging through with his nails, ripping and snapping the sinew and bone caging it. Somehow though, when it is out and heavy there in his hand… Why was the urge not satisfied?  
  


         I̩̺̠t̯̦̻̬̱̗̹ ͙̱i͚s͚̬̙͔̣ͅ ͖s̗͉͚̩t̯̦̻̬̱̗̹i̯̞̙͖̖͓ḽ̳͓͉̻̯l̙͕͎ ͚̪͉̱͍̳͔ṇ̰̤o͉̪̙͚̱̻t̖̪ ̪̠̭̪͎͓e͉͕̬͙̪n͎o͉̪̙͚̱̻u̻̹̹̗͕͙g͙̲̗̭̰̲ͅh̲̝̟.͔̟̩̼͉ ̯̥͍̹̥Ẉ̺̮h̗̞͓̺̪̺̳y̘̣̮̰̫ ͓͉i̮̯s̫̻ i͕̬̳͚̼̣̜t̜̼̫ ͙͉̠͉̻͔̼n̰̰͓͎̲̰o̼̙̥̦̹̝t͖̹ ͎̯̖e͉͕̬͙̪n͍o̹̤͔̞͇̩͕u̗̤̪͖̮ͅg͔̟̠̘h̭͉͎͙̥̳̦.̘͉̩̖͍̻̼  
  
  


She’s gone, but her heart is here. He squeezed it in his hand, tough and sinewy, gushing and squelching with blood. He lifts it up, presses it to his face, his nose, grinding it against his mouth and inhaling, sputtering on the blood as it shot up into his throat, the smell filling his lungs. He cast it away, leaving his face smeared and messy.

She's nothing. She's empty, laid out there, torn apart, insides spilling out for the crows and the wild dogs to feast on once he leaves. If there's a heart there, he can't find it. He'd held it in his hand, but it was worthless to him, already cold and useless once he'd reached it.  
  


No, th̴e̶re’s s͝ometh͝in͞g else, ju̴st ҉h̨er̕e…   He lifted the edge of her robe, opening it to his gaze.  
  


  
  
   Y̭̰̗̝͛̍͑̌ͤ̾è̲͙̍̌̍͢s̡̰̟̮̜̅̓.͝ ̵͎͉͕͖̪͌ͅṪ̮̱͚̼̫̅̊̋͗̒ͅḧ͇̼͎̠̱́̿̽̚ȅ̯̙͛͛ͬ̈́̈́̏r̼̣͚̙̪ȩ̣̻͓̦̏̿ͦ ̝̺̝̘̹̹̀ͭͦį̤͚̥ͨ̒̏̆ṯ̞̝͋͛ͦ ̺̭̪̖̳̼̆̏̽̌ĩ̒͛͆̈́̚s̡̰̟̮̜̅̓”.͊̇͏

 


	10. Chapter 10

    “Whoa! Nearly got me there!” Renji [ whooped.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4lzxeO4A4GU)  
  


“Yeah sure,” Ichigo grumbled, swiping for him again with Zangetsu, knowing full well Renji was teasing him. It was light-hearted enough however, that Ichigo took it in good fun rather than as pity-comfort.

The two of them were sparring out in the yard. Ichigo was doing his best to hold against Renji one-armed, because Renji was still pushing him quite hard. Of course, Ichigo’s pride would’ve been hurt if he hadn’t. He was glad Renji wasn’t holding back or not taking him seriously because he had one less arm, but of course, Renji wasn’t an animal, and wasn’t ruthless about it either — he went just hard enough that Ichigo would have to work for it, but just easy enough that he didn’t completely rout Ichigo straight out, because where was the fun in that?

He was glad the two of them were so alike. He’d been about to go completely stir-crazy, shut up in Renji’s house — he needed to stay fit, get some fresh air and exercise, and most of all, keep his mood from spiraling. If it were Rukia, she would’ve been stubborn and made him stay in and rest in safety until it was time to get his arm back, but Renji was of the same mind as he was — Rukia would call them both equally stupid and reckless and wild, but Ichigo was glad of it. Renji had only taken around two minutes of convincing before he’d snatched up Zabimaru and faced off against him outside.

He was having a blast, not to mention Zangetsu was ecstatic over it too. He always pretended not to like Renji quite as much as Ichigo did, but he could never hide how much he loved to face off against Zabimaru.

“Hey, watch your form. Bein’ Ol’ Man One Hand is no excuse to get sloppy,” Renji jibed, smirking widely. Ichigo snorted, adjusting his grip one-handed by steadying Zangetsu’s hilt onto his leg to slide his hand up further.

“You’re the only old man here!” Ichigo hollered, trading blows with Renji until they’d both worked up a sweat and locked their blades close between their faces. They stood there breathing heavily for a moment before Renji broke away.

Ichigo untucked his yukata a little and waved half of it to get some airflow on his sweaty chest and neck, walking over to a patch of shade under some trees near the edge of the yard, watching Renji stretch some distance off, his muscled back flexing under his uniform and his hair all lit up in the sun. He was turned away, but Ichigo still felt his eyes burning into his from just before.

If Ichigo didn’t know better, he'd think Renji was checking him out.

It frightened him a little, but in a thrilling _exciting_ kind of way that made him feel hot around his collar and prickly on the back of his neck. Ichigo didn’t know what to do with that type of attention — no one’s ever looked at him like that before! He's never been  _checked out_ by someone.

He knows he shouldn’t be worried; Renji had told him they would take things slow, and Ichigo trusted him, but when Renji looked at him like that, it’s almost like he wants to _touch Ichigo_ instead of looking, like he wants to _do things to him._ Ichigo felt that it was only a matter of time before something — _he doesn’t know what exactly —_ happened.  
  


_‘Careful King. Quit lookin’ so pathetic or he’ll pounce.’_

_‘Pathetic! Whadda’ you mean?!’_

_‘I mean quit with the doe-eyes if you don’t want him to snap an’ climb you like a tree.’_ Ichigo didn’t know what he was talking about because he did not make _doe-eyes,_ thank you. He was about to tell Shirosaki so, but that’s when he added,  _‘Not that I’d complain.’_

He meant to tell Shirosaki to stop acting like such a pervert and that Renji wasn’t going to climb him because that's not how they are together, _that’s not what’s going on,_ but what came out was entirely different.

      “Then… then don’t!” he sputtered, after gaping for a full two seconds — and Shirosaki was surprised enough with the outburst that he actually shut up. Ichigo sat there with his cheeks puffed out in embarrassment, eyes wide.  Shit — that had come out louder than he’d meant it to. Also, what the fuck.

“Hm?” Renji wondered, coming up next to him, wiping his forearm across his sweaty head and sitting down beside him in the shade.

“Just Shirosaki,” Ichigo grumbled, glaring and twisting his mouth up, not liking how pleased with himself Shiro was acting in there now, teasing him for being excited to make out with Renji.

“Ah,” Renji replied, and let it drop right away, as he always did when it had to do with Shirosaki. “Uhh, so… Any news on your arm? I mean, I dunno’ what you’d know that I don’t, unless you went to the Twelfth again earlier?...”

Ichigo shrugged, stretching and throwing his legs out next to Renji’s. Renji smiled a little and tipped his foot towards Ichigo’s. They look kind of nice together like that.

“Inoue’s coming soon.”  
  
Renji stopped smiling, seeming thoughtful.   “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Rukia said.”

“Oh,” Renji hummed. “That’s good.” He said it, but Ichigo couldn’t help but frown at him, because as much as he sounded like he meant it, it didn’t _feel_ like he meant it.    “Not long now then.”  
  


Ichigo stared at him with his brow furrowed for a few moments, watching Renji’s hair gently blow around his face.        _‘Huh ... Did I just fuck up somewhere?’_

_‘I dunno’.  Looks like it.’_

_‘Where though?’_

_‘He said it like he thinks time is almost up.’_

_‘Time for what? Why do you say that?’_  


_‘...’_

_‘... Zangetsu?’_  
  


. . .

  
  


The Eleventh Division was out doing what it did best: fieldwork. Today they’d been sent out with a few other groups to take out a band of Hollows that had been terrorizing the districts nearest Seireitei. Yumichika still noted with bitterness that even after all these years, Soul Society sent them most often to rescue Pluses in the rich districts.

At least — perhaps it was a selfish thought — it meant the chances were very slim that Yumichika would ever have to see the wretched place he had come from, would never have to go back.

 _‘Focus, Yumichika, you’re so distractible today,’_ Ruri’iro scolded, a bit snippy in his anxiousness that Houzukimaru has still not made an appearance.

 _‘Well I’m certainly doing my best to be,’_ Yumichika shot back. Anything was better than stewing on how his life has fallen to pieces as he’d always feared it would.

Their manpower had been needed elsewhere, so the captain had led some squads away to join up with another division. Yumichika had been left behind with Ikkaku. The two of them were to stay and keep the perimeter secure.

He’d be lying yet again if he were to pretend that he wasn’t feeling a little nervous. Yumichika was certain the captain had done this on purpose, and probably only because he either assumed they’d already made up, or wanted them to be forced to be alone together so that they would make up as soon as possible. As rowdy as the Eleventh might be and as common as infighting was between the unseated officers, Yumichika knew that the captain had a very low tolerance for bullshit, and was becoming quite irritated with the _atmosphere_ between him and Ikkaku.

He didn’t blame Zaraki-Taichou exactly, if he thought he and Ikkaku had mended fences. It certainly seemed as though they had, from how normal Ikkaku has acted in the past day. Still, Yumichika was treading on eggshells, because he has by now put together that most of Ikkaku’s outbursts had happened in the heat of battle, or had at least led to it. It was at those times that Ikkaku was irritable, his temper more easily triggered. Perhaps, because it put his mind on Ruri’iro Kujaku and how Yumichika had lied to him. At least, this was the only idea Yumichika had of what it might be.

In any case, Yumichika tried not to say much, which was hard, because Ikkaku was talking to him again and acting like his normal self, and seemed confused by his reluctance to speak.

Yumichika wasn’t fooled though, keeping on his guard. Ikkaku was talkative, but his reiatsu was not.  


_‘Oh, where can Houzukimaru be? I do wish he’d come out…’_ Ruri’iro seemed withdrawn, sheepish almost, like a child who'd been scolded.   _‘This isn’t like him at all.’_

 _‘No… No, it’s not like him,’_ Yumichika agreed. It didn’t feel like him either, when he focused on Ikkaku’s reiatsu pressing in next to him. 

 

   It was so quiet — not docile exactly; almost… _sinister._

  


. . .

  
  


In the past days Ikkaku had been able to bear the strange inner silence because he’d had Yumichika’s talking to listen to, but now Yumichika was _not_ talking and he _couldn’t_ bear it.

He wished he knew what was going on, what had happened to make Yumichika upset with him. No, not upset exactly. When Yumichika was angry at him, he did get quiet, but the silence had a distinct spitefulness to it, full of pointed glares. Now Yumichika seemed, dare he say it… _meek?_ Timid, almost. He’s never seen him like that before.

Well, one time before. When he’d first discovered Ruri’iro Kujaku. Yumichika had been _afraid_ then.

Was Yumichika worried about something, to be so quiet now? But what could he be worried about? Ikkaku gave him a long assessing look. He was just standing there quietly, turned away from him with… with his guard lowered.  
  


Ikkaku turned his head towards him, eyeing him. What kind of idiot lowered their guard around [t̻͕̺͟h̜̣̤͙̥͡e̻͍̥̰ͅ ͔̟e͏n͉̞̫̥͙̜̟e̘̺͕̪m͚͎͍y̵̹̫̯̟̭̙?](https://youtu.be/Mw3_sFOSKLk)  


He licked his teeth slowly, taking a step behind him, another.  
  


He was going to stab him, right there between the shoulderblades, or slash his spine right at the base of his neck, or between the ribs, or his soft fleshy side. He wanted to see him suffer, hear his dying scream. Yumichika’s pain was satisfying, the twist of agony on his beautiful face.

 

The silence would end, end with the s̡w͘eeţ m͝usi̸c҉ ̡o̵f ̴Y̶͈̞̻͔͍̻͓̣̣̩̹͕u͉͖̳̝̟m̸̰͍͕̫̹͕̺̮̘͉͓͔i̟̩̰̼̩ch̭̞̰͇̘̬̪i͇̙̳̺̙̞͓̙̹k͏͚̺͈a͖̼͔͙̗̦’͔̹̤s̶͍͈̥͚̥̼̤ͅ ̖̝̪̥̕s̮͈̬c̟r̳͎̤͕̼̭̝҉̮̟̹e̦͙͍̱͚̤̤a͙̱͞m̨͚̪̤̪̖̟̟s̥͙̹̯̜͖̺͙̪͠ͅ.

  
  


. . .  


 

Ikkaku had been carrying on for some time, trying to make conversation, so it was plain as day when he went abruptly silent.

Yumichika looked up in alarm, heart beginning to pound, and not a moment too soon, throwing his arm up to block when Ikkaku grabbed for him.

Ikkaku retaliated by closing his fist around it and crunching the delicate bones in his wrist, breaking them easily in one fierce squeeze. Yumichika cried out in pain and dropped his sword because it just hurt too badly. Clawing at Ikkaku’s grip, he tried to get him to let go, but Ikkaku kept squeezing ever tighter.  
  


    _‘Stop! Stop, damn you! Oh, stop!’_ Ruri screeched, panicked.  
  


Yumichika was too blinded by pain to think straight for a few more seconds, and when he finally started gritting his teeth and went silent, Ikkaku moved to a higher spot and did it again, cracking the bones.

 _“Aah-!_ Nnng… Why… why are y-” Yumichika was practically dry-heaving, trying to keep quiet and not scream, cold sweat breaking out all over.

“Hah,” Ikkaku laughed, and his voice was so dark that Yumichika looked up to him, eyes wide and teary from the intensity of the pain, sharp and unforgiving. “Dropping your sword. Absolutely pitiful.”

Yumichika swallowed hard and ground his teeth together.

“If you’re a warrior, then pick it up,” Ikkaku growled, getting in Yumichika’s face, close, and Yumichika dropped his eyes down, lip quivering minutely.  
  


“Just look at you. You gonna’ scream? C’mon, sc̴re̸am͟ a̷l͜re͘a̕d͝y!̷”̡ ͘  
  


This was a humiliation tactic, plain as day. If Yumichika didn’t feel so much that he deserved this, if he wasn’t half going out of his mind from the absolute agony of it, if Ruri’iro’s fury and the blood rushing in his ears wasn’t drowning out any sentient thought, he would’ve put a stop to Ikkaku’s bullying right then.

Yumichika finally did scream, because the pain was too much to bear. How will he hold his sword after this? Can this be healed? His wrist and arm was so messed up he wasn’t even sure he’d be able to keep his hand.  
  


     _‘Let me out! Oh, let me out!’_  
  


_‘I… can’t!’_  
  


_‘Then kidou! Yumichika, kidou! You must make him stop!’_  
  


Panting heavily, tears and saliva running down his pale face, Yumichika stood there and trembled. He wouldn’t do it, couldn’t use a kidou against Ikkaku. How much more could he humiliate himself in front of him? He won’t stand up against him in a fight either, he didn’t deserve to, not after how he’d lied. Not even to save his own life — he can’t harm Ikkaku. Yumichika loved him and didn’t want to hurt him. Even now, he tried to silence his screams as much as he could because he didn’t want to get him in any more trouble.

He hadn’t expected Zaraki-Taichou to interfere like he had before, and if the captain saw this then Ikkaku was really going to get it. Prison, thrown out of the squad? Yumichika didn’t want that. Ikkaku’s devoted his life to following Captain Zaraki and Yumichika didn’t want him to be expelled from the squad by his idol — but he can’t stop his screams, it was just too agonizing, his bones breaking apart and splitting through the skin under Ikkaku’s fist.

He knew that people would hear and would eventually come to find them, but he can’t silence himself, he’s just in too much pain.    Oh lord, his arm was so messed up.

Ikkaku wasn’t grinning [anymore.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qWfVUjhZ_QQ) His body was heaving, his eyes rabid, and Yumichika was so surprised when Ikkaku grabbed him and shoved his body against him that he didn’t even struggle. He was just frozen there in shock as Ikkaku’s hands searched his body and grabbed his back, his ass.

 

He was so rough, so mean, and Yumichika was weak from pain, even struggling to get away was jostling his broken arm worse. He shoved Yumichika down into the dirt and got on top of him and Yumichika began to grow frantic. “What are you-?! Stop!”  Ikkaku was completely crazed, and Yumichika didn’t doubt that he was really going to do what it looked like he was trying to do. Through the blind panic of it, the thought flew through his mind, _Ikkaku was going to try to rape him._

The idea of it would’ve been unthinkable even a few weeks ago, but in the past few days, Ikkaku had seemed to come unhinged, lose all sense of boundaries, and Yumichika wouldn’t put it past him to do it if he had the opportunity — _if Yumichika didn't put everything into stopping him_. Even now, Ikkaku was throwing his body against him roughly; he was erect and his breath was lusty.

Eyes wild with desperation, Yumichika shoved and clawed at Ikkaku’s face with his good hand and at last, looking up and gasping in fright, he singed Ikkaku with a kidou and scrambled away — only having done so out of panic, because shit, the captain was back.

“What the hell is going on now?!” he bellowed, and Yumichika snapped to attention, eyes forward, chin up.  
  


“Zaraki-Taichou!”  
  


God, how mortifying to have to be rescued again. How low was he going to sink.

 

. . .    

 

When he’d walked up on them wrapped up together on the ground, at first Kenpachi had thought his senior officers had made up a little _too well,_ if you know what he means, but it became clear really quickly that he hadn’t come across two lovers rolling in the dirt, but yet another scrap — a pretty fucking bad one, at that. He mentally heaved a sigh and cursed, because if there were two of his subordinates that he relied upon to get along, it was those two, but lately...

Never mind. Was Madarame really trying to do what he thought he was…? Because it sure looked like...  
  
Even as he watched Yumichika scramble to a stand to acknowledge him, apparently having thought the altercation was through, Ikkaku leapt to his feet after him and made a wild swipe. Yumichika jumped back, absolutely shocked, but Ikkaku kept chasing after him, nabbing him soon enough and tearing at him like he was going to do it right there [in front of him.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kVEWXl-Wc-w)

Yumichika shrieked for him to get off and get away from him, thrashing wildly and howling up a storm. After a moment of surprise, when he saw Madarame really wasn’t letting up, Kenpachi grabbed him by the collar and yanked him off, kicking him away.

He was barely down for a second. Yumichika huddled in on himself, holding his arm, head hanging in shame.  Ikkaku just gave a wild grin at Kenpachi, and then, right in front of him, like he didn’t care if he saw, he reached out and yanked Yumichika by the hair, drawing out a surprised yelp — and Kenpachi had _had_ it by then.  
  


He draws. He’s gonna’ teach this fucker a goddamn lesson.  


. . .

  


There came that fool, Zaraki again, ruining everything.

He was mad already that Kenpachi had inconvenienced him and interfered a second time with him tearing into that heart, that _juicy willing heart that beat for him like no other on earth did_ , but no matter — the two of them were throwing down.

He got his ass kicked pretty badly, thrown around like garbage. When it ended, Ikkaku was still mad and Kenpachi’s madder.

He flicked his captain’s blood from his sword, the little that he’d managed to draw, and wiped his brow, streaming with his own blood and sweat.    
  


 I͟t i̢s҉ j̢us̕t n̕ot͟ en̶o͝ugh.


	11. Chapter 11

Renji prided himself on his patience, but even he was beginning to agonize on it somewhat. Especially today.

He and Ichigo were alone in his home and Ichigo was there standing at the counter, fumbling and struggling along to make himself a snack, innocently content and oblivious. After watching him for some time with a smile, Renji approached behind him, embraced him.

Ichigo stiffened in his arms, seeming embarrassed somehow, maybe a little shy — they haven't touched each other much yet, after all — but Renji coaxed him to return the affection, and Ichigo eventually turned into him and even put his arms around him too, hugging him back.

 _‘Ahh, I want him,'_  he thinks, nuzzling his face down into Ichigo’s neck, pressing intimately close against him, and it's nice, so nice that they can touch each other like this — that they can hold each other. It's been so long since he's been held.  _'It's no good. I want him.'_

Ichigo wants him too. He can see the flush in his cheeks and felt the eager erection between them. Renji made a noise of interest, laughing a little bit to tease him. “Ahh, a-hah… You can ignore that,” Ichigo murmured awkwardly, completely pink.

He laughed aloud then at how flustered he sounded. “You get excited so fast, Kid.”

“Don’t act like you aren’t too!” Ichigo shot back accusingly. “I've seen you lookin' at me! Don’t think I don’t!”

“Maybe I oughta’ do something about it then,” Renji said, and released Ichigo, waltzing off, laughing a little more at the sputtering sounds he heard from behind him.  
  


    _‘Don’t say things you know you can’t follow through on.’_

 _‘He’s too fun to tease,’_ Renji dismissed. _‘Besides, maybe I will follow through.’_  
  


“I’ll be back!” he called to Ichigo. “Got a couple more things to take care of and I’ll be home for the night.”

“Okay… Well hurry back,” Ichigo muttered, still sounding a bit cowed by his forwardness. A silly grin spread on Renji's face. He felt full of the joys of spring.  
  


    _‘There you go, Zabimaru.’_

_‘Is tonight the night then? You think he will let you mount?’_

_‘Quit it, you’re so goddamn dirty,’_ Renji grumbled, feeling embarrassed somehow even though he’d just been bragging a little.

_‘You know that you and I mirror one another.’_

_‘Wh-! Hey! Is that your way of saying I’m a pervert too?’_

_‘I’m saying I’m as eager as you are for your romance to move forward. Zangetsu is so very…_ wild,' Zabimaru huffed wistfully. Renji snorted derisively.

 _‘Well you won’t mount_ him _without a fight if Ichigo’s any indication, so don’t get your hopes up.’_

_‘You think you will have more success?’_

_‘Like you said, I have to approach gently — and it’s too soon for that. But I am gonna’ give him the sweetest night, make no mistake. Tonight, we become lovers.’_  
  


_‘Then I await it with great relish.’_

 

_. . ._

  


Ikkaku went and got himself healed later on from some sort of mystery battle he knew he’d had with the captain — he only knew it because everyone else did, and kept shooting him looks. Even his subordinates were boldly scowling at him and shaking their heads in scorn. Had he lost particularly badly or something?

He figured he’d gotten pounded hard enough that he’d blacked out and forgotten the details or something, because he didn’t remember a damn thing about it. He wished he did. Fights with the captain were always really intense.

Ikkaku was halfway through getting healed when he felt Zaraki-Taichou enter the area, and raised his eyebrows when he came in person. He sat there on his cot with a meek Fourth-Division runt at his side, patching him up, while the captain railed at him about what the fuck was that about and that he’d better fucking explain himself.

Only thing was Ikkaku had no idea what he meant, other than clearly seeing he’d been a disappointment somehow. The captain’s never scolded him so openly. “I’ll do better next time, Taichou,” was all he could say.

Zaraki-Taichou just stared at him incredulously for a long time, and then at last spat, “I oughta’ report your ass.”

Yumichika wasn’t helpful about it either, because when they’re walking back to the barracks together, Ikkaku asked him what had happened, knowing well enough that he’d let the captain down in some way or another, but Yumichika didn’t say a word about it. Perhaps he’d lost the fight really badly.

The puzzling thing was that Yumichika seemed injured too.

It occured to Ikkaku then that Yumichika had been to the Fourth too, to be walking back with him now.   

   _‘Houzukimaru, you didn’t say anything about Kujaku getting hurt, what the hell?’_ he demanded, even though he didn’t expect a reply at this point.    

He eyed Yumichika curiously, the way he seemed to huddle away from him, not even looking towards him as they walked. Was he hurt very bad? What had happened? Was he okay? 

“You okay?” Ikkaku wondered.

“It’s fine.” Yumichika shied away from him even more, and for some reason, that irked him — no scratch that, _enraged_ him. Things have been weird enough lately and nobody was on his side, including his own Zanpakutou. The last thing he needed was Yumichika giving him the goddamn brush off.

“Lemme’ see,” he demanded, dark and low.

“I said it’s fine.”

 _"Le͘mm͠ę'̡ see҉!"_   He meant to just grab Yumichika’s bandaged arm, but he ended up yanking him around to face him, baring his teeth in his face, his hands fisted in the front of his uniform, pulling at it.

  


. . .  


 

Yumichika might have hit absolute rock-bottom, but as loathsome as he was, as incredibly low as his self-esteem was, and as many times as he would crawl back to Ikkaku despite because scorned and wounded, this time he saw it coming, and he fought back _hard._

When Ikkaku grabbed him and got that look in his eye, Yumichika didn’t waste a moment punching Ikkaku right in the face. Ikkaku sat down hard in the dirt, wiping his face, bewildered. He looked up at Yumichika with his lips pursed, seeming unphased.

“... Pff…  You’re okay then, I guess. Here, help me up. Can’t let anyone know that I fell.”

Yumichika just stared at him, holding his yukata closed at the collar, his heart pounding, because for the life of him it almost sounded like Ikkaku had no recollection of what had _just_ happened. Worse, it seemed like he didn’t remember trying to attack him on the battlefield, didn’t even realize that Yumichika had reason to be upset with him, to be _afraid_  of him even.

Before, he’d thought Ikkaku was acting like he didn’t care about the whole thing because he felt Yumichika deserved to be thrown around like he was doing, but now he wondered… Did he really not remember somehow?

 _‘Good lord, he’s lost his mind,’_ Ruri’iro whispered, aghast, the first thing he’s said for quite some time. He hasn’t spoken hardly at all since Ikkaku had tried to force himself on him.

“Maybe you should talk to someone,” Yumichika said, eyes wide. “Renji,” he murmured, numb to the sound of his own voice. “You’ve been in a strange mood for ages now.”

Of all things, Ikkaku just started laughing a little bit.

Yumichika turned halfway, not taking his eyes off him. Ikkaku got up and wandered away, this weird smile on his face as he passed. He watched him walk off, and felt a chill shoot up his back.  
  


_‘I tell you, Yumichika, the two of you are not quarrelling. He is not punishing you. He has well and truly gone insane. I’ve thought and thought about it and there’s not a way in the world he would have attacked you the way he did if it were up to him, no matter how angry he was. He can’t have done. He… he would never do that to us, I know it.’_

_‘Do you now.’_

_‘And even if he would, Houzukimaru wouldn’t let him. Houzukimaru loves you and I so.’_

_‘Loves me, you say.’_

    _‘He does. And he loves Ikkaku. He would never let him disgrace himself, would never let him do something so horrible as that.’_ He said it almost desperately, as though he couldn’t cope with anything else.  
  


_‘You already know the truth.  It’s the blood fever, Yumichika.’_

_  
_  Yumichika sighed, having feared the worst. If it was true, at least Ikkaku didn’t hate him, and hadn’t been acting completely on his own all those times he’s been cruel to him, but if that was the case, it meant he’d lost his mind, was on the verge of insanity. It meant he would have to stop Ikkaku before he inevitably went off the deep end, which was a scary thing, considering Ikkaku was exponentially more powerful than any of the other officers who’d suffered the same — barring Ichigo of course, but then, Ichigo had been stopped.

He felt uneasy with the idea, and perhaps that was part of the reason why it’s taken him so long to accept, because it had been some time ago now that Ikkaku had started showing signs. He’d already become violent and unpredictable. If it really was the same blood fever that had caused those other murders, Yumichika was just surprised it had dragged on this long.     Luck, perhaps.

 

_‘You may be right.’_

 

. . .  
  


Ichigo had gotten some more tests done at the Twelfth that afternoon. Renji’d gotten a mind that the kid had snuck off there by himself a couple other times, so this time he made doubly sure to accompany him.

They were learning more about the other two who’d killed a squad member after being struck with what they were calling ‘blood fever’ now. One last guy had turned himself in when he’d started waking up and not knowing where he was, his leg having walked him outside. Of course, it was a little more difficult to kill someone with a crazed leg, so he’d gotten away without going through the tragedy of murdering someone close to him.

From what they could piece together, given that one of the men was still locked up and distraught after the death of his friend by his own doing, and another of them having ended it all in his grief, they’d all started feeling _weird_ at around the same time — which, as it happened, had been the day Ichigo arrived and they’d been sent out to take out those Hollows. Apparently they’d all been in the same area at around the same time, and had all been hit with something sharp or other.

And there’d also been this — as Ichigo called him — _weird guy._

“Yeah,” Ichigo said, when one of the scientists attending him took samples from him yet again to compare to his separated arm, which they were keeping in a cryosafe. “I saw Ikkaku fighting him and then it felt like I got shot through the arm, but I couldn’t tell what happened.”

As far as they could tell, they’d all been struck or scraped with some sort of projectile laced with the venom that caused the blood fever. Nothing had been recovered, obviously, or they would have made an anti-venom by now.

“So, what did you think of my plan then,” Ichigo wondered. “Do you think it’s safe?”

When nobody had a good reason why not, Renji found himself standing next to Ichigo just outside Division Twelve’s gates as he sent a Hell Butterfly to the Living World — so that Orihime could be contacted to come and reset his arm, _asap._

Ichigo let out a sigh of relief with it was done, seeming uplifted to know that it wouldn’t be long before things went back to normal. Renji smiled back, but it felt heavy on his heart.  
  


More than ever, it somehow felt as though he was running out of time.  
 

“I have to get back to the office, but I’ll meet you later,” Renji muttered, and the two of them parted ways. Focusing on work helped, but he found his mind wandering incessantly.

_‘Don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind on this evening’s plans, because if you have, I’d be most disappointed.’_

_‘Oh, butt out, you dirty old bastard,’_ Renji thought a little petulantly, even though they both know he was only getting like that because he didn’t want to talk about it, and didn’t want to think about it even more so. _‘And of course I haven’t. This is just all the more reason to go through with it.’_

_‘What are you afraid of?’_

_‘Afraid? Who says so.’_  
  


_‘If not, why do you tremble?’_  
  


Renji set his jaw, screwing his eyes shut. _‘Just excited,’_ he denied, even though there was no point when it was impossible, literally, to hide anything from Zabimaru.  
  


On the way home, he ran into Yumichika, who was looking unusually downcast. Of course, the ruffled feathers were smoothed over the second Yumichika saw him, which only made Renji suspicious. “Yumichika-san,” he greeted, and they walked together for a time.

He hadn’t had a chance to talk with him in a while, and when the conversation invariably turned to the gossip surrounding Ichigo and what was going on with him, Renji told Yumichika about the strange enemy that had been fighting nearby Ichigo and how he’d gotten caught in the crossfire — how everyone who’d been in range had gone through some bout of temporary insanity or out-of-body experience.

He didn’t know what response he’d expected exactly, but silence hadn’t been it. Yumichika looked at him for a long, long time, the color seeming gone from his cheeks.    
  


“Are you okay?” Renji wondered. “You look like you just realized something terrible.”  
  


“No… No, I think I already knew it,” Yumichika said dazedly, and after that he turned away, telling him, “I have to find Ikkaku,” with nothing resembling the warm goodbye he was used to receiving. Renji thought it was a little strange, but didn’t think much else of it, heading home to meet Ichigo.  
  


The kid seemed to know what was on his mind immediately upon meeting his gaze, because he got really quiet and slack in the face, standing there like he didn’t know whether to meet him in an embrace or bolt.    _‘He’s shy,’_ Renji realized. _‘He’d never want me to know it, but he is.’_

They’d planned to move slowly, but Renji felt that was up the creek for the time being. It was urgent that if they were going to do this, they do it now — so in lieu of doing things properly over a series of months or years as he would’ve hoped to do, when Renji approached him, his steps were achingly deliberate, [very slow.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kiDTM-w4nSA)

Ichigo seemed more frightened and thrilled the closer he got, but he stayed rooted to the spot, and at last when Renji stood just an inch apart from him, Renji seized him in a mad burst, rough and vicious about it, his arms squeezing Ichigo to him. He felt like a wild animal, grabbing him like he’s desperate, pressing them together and directing Ichigo’s face to his so he could kiss him, ravish the poor kid where he stood.

Maybe he felt like this was his last opportunity to have Ichigo, to be with him before he changed his mind, before he was taken back to Karakura — to his real life, away from Renji, out of reach again.

 _‘Gentle,’_ Zabimaru reminded. _‘What the matter with you.’_

_‘He wants me too, I can feel it. Just look at him. Just fucking look at him — he wants me too.’_

_‘Gentle, Renji.’_  
  


_‘I can’t.’_  
  


_‘You love him, so you must.’_  
  


Renji’s fist in Ichigo’s fluff of hair relaxed somewhat and he allowed Ichigo a gasp of air. “Wh…” Ichigo breathed, his mouth wet and pink from where he’d kissed him. His eyes were all dazed and sparkling, his hair a mess. He’s perfect like that, standing there, perfect enough to drive Renji mad — it made his heart ache, he's so beautiful.

He knows Ichigo’s a virgin — has to be — but the kid behaved as though he’s never so much as been kissed. The eagerness in his eyes, the surprise at being touched like this, the way he was frozen in place by uncertainty — he’s beautiful, and Renji was gentle then, because he's so perfect that it makes him sad, it breaks his heart. He pressed his palms against Ichigo’s cheeks to hold him in place for another kiss, this one slow and passionate.

He didn’t know how they ended up in his bed, probably carried them there, he must have done, but it was all a blur, kissing those sweet lips, and for all Ichigo ought to be hardened from his short life as a hero, his skin was smooth, youth made him soft. He eagerly threw his body onto Ichigo’s, not wasting time, some part of him thinking he had to rush things, before something could stop him, could stop them being together.  
  


_‘Before he stops it, you mean.’_

_‘Zabimaru, for fucksake, will you stop talking to me while I’m trying to get with him?’_

_‘A man who forces himself on the one he loves is trash.’_  
  


_‘I’m not. He wants me too, look at him lying there. Don’t you see how he wants me. I’m not. Look at him. God, look.’_  


“Shit,” Ichigo gasped, and Renji touched him then, his body so responsive underneath his. “Are we?...” Kissed and groped to near senselessness, Ichigo lay there dazed, but his eyes were bright with nerves. “Are we really gonna’...” He swallowed hard, panting. _“Sex?”_ he breathed, and he looks unsure, maybe even a little scared.

Renji gave a growl of a sigh, his face nestling into Ichigo’s neck to kiss him there while his hand snuck into his clothes, fondled him where he was most sensitive.  “Renji,” Ichigo tried, “Wait a minute, slow down,” and for all his voice was drawn out almost to a moan, it cracked with nervousness, which got Renji to slow at last.

Ichigo picked his head up, biting his lip, eyebrows scrunching together. “Are we seriously about to _do it?_ ” he whispered, as though mortified, even though they were alone together.

“You don’t think we should?” Renji hummed, not pausing in pressing kisses to the side of Ichigo’s face, the front of his chest, under his chin on his bare throat.

“What happened to taking it slow?” Ichigo practically yelped when Renji smoothed a hand down his front, making a pass over his stomach and the hard bulge at his crotch. Ichigo grabbed Renji’s wrist, not taking it away, but not letting him go either. “What happened to thousands of years together?” Ichigo demanded, beautifully flustered.

“Well, I realize now that we might only have a day, so.” Renji took Ichigo’s hand in his, bringing it up to his face to press to his mouth. Ichigo gave a hard swallow at the open eye contact, growing more flushed.

Ichigo stared uncomprehendingly for a beat before saying, “We found out today I’m gonna’ be _fixed,_ not that I’m gonna’ die!”

But Renji still holds onto him, because he doesn’t realize. He’s so innocent it made Renji feel like weeping.    “Like I said,” he murmured.  
  


_“What?_ What’s that mean? I dunno' what that means,” Ichigo demanded, but Renji just held on, screwing his eyes shut.   “... Renji?”

    _‘You’re trembling,’_ Zabimaru hisses again, slithering around him. He won’t let him rest.

_‘Ugh, stop saying that!’_

_‘If there are doubts, then you musn’t rush in.’_

_‘Butt out, I don’t care what you say. We’re meant to be together, I know it. We can be happy, me and him. I know we can.’_  
  
He didn’t want to let go of the feeling he got when Ichigo was with him, when they were side by side. He doesn't want this to end — and if it has to, he has to hold on now.

   _'I’m finally going to be happy. The loneliness is finally going to end. Don't ruin this for me. Don't let this be ruined.’_

_‘You behave as though I’m trying to talk you out of it, but you're the one who's afraid. There's no use trying to throw me off the scent, because I can see your fears, I know you, no matter how dark the secret. I know you.’  
_

_‘Then why won’t you leave me alone. Why can’t I just have this.’  
_

_‘Why has your patience waned when you intended to win his heart? You meant to be slow and careful, so where has your resolve gone? What has frightened you?’_

_‘You know. You just said you know, so don’t make me say it.’_  
  


_‘All this, because of a little girl?’_  
  


_‘....’_ He grit his teeth, pulling away from Zabimaru roughly, shutting him out.  
  


    Too much talking. Too much thinking, when they should be living in the moment, one that might be the last they’d ever have together. Renji’s lived through forty years of missed chances already and he’s learned, he’s learned through suffering not to repeat that mistake — if he let this go, he’d regret it his whole life long.

He bore over Ichigo, their noses brushing, and he watched the sweat bead on his face, watched his eyes grow large and his jaw slacken, watched the pulse beat frantically in his neck — he’s precious, he’s wonderful, and if he's going to slip through his fingers, Renji's going to enjoy him, he's going to adore him and treasure him for this one night. He won't waste his chance, not while he has him here, in his arms.  
  


“Let’s make love,” he breathes, husky and low, and rolls his body onto Ichigo’s firmly, slotting them together, their hips, their legs, their chests.  
  


And Ichigo turned beet red right before his eyes, but he didn’t start stammering like he'd thought he would. He snorted, “Puh,” and scoffed in this weak and wobbly voice, _“make love.”_

Renji grinned gleefully, like he was about to take a bite out of him, and Ichigo’s lips began to twist in a smile of his own, his hand roving Renji’s back, pausing to grip and then moving on, trying to feel and hold on at the same time.

“You’re not gentle enough for that,” Ichigo teased, and Renji didn’t know how the kid still had it in him to give him an attitude, not when he was shaking like he was. “It’s not makin' love when you’re throwing me in bed and doing what you want.”

“It is making love. I love you, so it’s making love,” Renji tells him.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Ichigo stared at him incredulously for a second and then burst into a laugh.

“You’re such a goddamn idiot,” he muttered, moving his hand up the back of Renji’s neck, cupping his head, and meeting him in a kiss, and Renji’s heart fluttered and flipped, his fervor cooling, his frantic groping becoming slow and sensual. Ichigo sighed into his mouth, and he is content.

And if this is his one chance to be like this with Ichigo, it’s a wonderful chance — in bed with his lover, rolling about and kissing each other, embracing and pressing together first this way and then that way until they both were panting and smiling and achingly excited.

“Let me,” Renji murmured, kissing at the skin that lay bare where his yukata was untied. “Let me take this off. Show yourself to me.”

“We’re really doing this,” Ichigo said to the ceiling as Renji slid his hands along his bare chest, breathing numbly, “This is really happening.”

“Yes,” Renji hummed back. “Don’t you want it to happen? I do.”

“We never even talked about it before,” he hissed, throwing his arm over his face, covering his eyes. “This is crazy.”

“You wanna’ talk about it?” Renji pressed his face to Ichigo’s ear. _“I want you,”_ he rasped, pleased with Ichigo’s shudder in response, but he did let up, laying atop Ichigo and giving him a charming smirk. Ichigo smiled back taking a shaky breath or two.

“Look, isn’t this fast? Plus, y’know, one arm is kind of a turn-off,” Ichigo joked, drawing a derisive snort from Renji. “Not to mention I tried to murder you! Plus it was on accident this time, which I think is way worse.”

Renji listened in fondness, a million miles away. “I’m so crazy for you, kid,” is what he said out loud, and Ichigo gave him a good wallop to the shoulder.

“Are you listening to me at all?! You oughta’ cool your jets! Who’s the teenager here?!”

“What can I say, I’m a red-blooded man,” Renji said with a cavalier shrug and a smug grin, “and I’m madly in love. Why should I cool my jets.”

“You’re insane!” Ichigo hollered. “I’ve got _one arm_ and I tried to kill you.” Renji gave a huff and rolled his eyes.

 _“Yeah,_ and I almost killed you too when we first met, and that shit doesn’t bother _you.”_ He leaned in and rubbed his nose to Ichigo’s teasingly. “So kiss me,” he breathed with a smile.

“You’re dumber than I thought and that’s saying something,” Ichigo said, exasperated as Renji helped himself to kissing his uncooperative lips.

“Shut it. Orihime’ll be here tomorrow.” Renji grabbed at his clothes, yanking them open, and Ichigo gasped, seizing up like he didn’t want it, but he didn’t fight — he just lay there and let Renji do what he wanted, just lay there and shuddered and gaped at him, flushed pink with modesty.

“So wait until then. At least,” Ichigo whispered. Renji gave him a chaste kiss, affectionate.

“If I do,” Renji crooned, “you’ll always think I’m only with you for your arm.”

“Pfff,” Ichigo laughed, snorting and breaking into wild giggling. “Heh, hahaha…”  
  


What he didn’t say was, _‘If I do, I may never get the chance again. She might take you back with her to keep.’_    His heart lay uneasy in his chest at the idea, sad but resigned.

He felt sick at the idea — because she's perfect. She's got the same bright hair and she's everything Ichigo had said he wanted — a person who could stand at his side and who knew about the land of the dead. She's the same age as Ichigo too, and she can be in the Living World with him, can get married to him and have kids with him. For godssake, she even looks like Ichigo's dead mom. She can have a good life with Ichigo, and no matter how much Renji loves Ichigo, no matter how sick with love his heart gets, no matter how it bleeds from wanting him, Orihime will always deserve Ichigo more.  She's perfect — so goddamn perfect that Renji can't stand it. How can he ever compete with that, how can he take Ichigo away from her? 

 

    _‘She might take you back with her, and if she does, I won’t try to stop her. How could I.’_  
  
  
Ichigo relents, melts against him. There he is, set out for the taking, so good, so brave and bright and wonderful, but lying beneath him, he shakes, he trembles.

Renji brings their bodies together, fitting himself between Ichigo’s legs — they open for him shyly and then close around him as he wraps the two of them together in an embrace, presses onto him.  
  


   _‘I did want to wait,’_ he thought, sad and resigned. _‘But I have to do it now if I want to at all. I have to.’_  
  


“Ichigo,” he breathed, hands cupping his sweet face, not quite so soft and round as it had been when they’d met, a little boy of fifteen, a spurt of fire, a flash of lightning, here to change his life forever, here to save Rukia and to save him and to save the world — to fix him and help him become a person he didn't hate, someone he actually liked seeing in the mirror.   He’s known him for such a short time in the span of decades upon decades, but Renji looked upon his life and thought it strange that he’d ever lived without him. Everything was a before and after now, and he doesn't want to see what comes after Ichigo, after he goes.  
  


  “I’m not ready,” Ichigo whispered against Renji’s lips as they part from a kiss, breathing together. “I don’t wanna’ go all the way,” he tells him, painfully young in that moment.  
  


“Just hold me. That’s enough,” he said, because he was never going to take it that far — all he wants is to be with him. Ichigo wrapped his arm around him after hearing that, this timid frightened thing in his eyes turning warm, going soft, and Renji felt choked up for a moment — is this what love is? Is this what it feels like to be loved?

They keep their clothes between them, and Renji doesn't reach between them to fondle him directly, but they do make love there under the covers.

Renji lay atop him and kissed his neck, embraced him, pleasured him to gasping. Ichigo’s head was thrown to the side, eyes shut tight, mouth open with labored panting. He shuddered each time Renji rolled his hips onto him, pressed their erections together. “Oh,” he breathed, face contorting in bliss, “Ohhh.”

He’s so goddamn beautiful that it doesn’t feel real, rutting on him under the blanket, their bodies wound together. When Renji brought him to climax, he looked surprised, breath stuck halfway out of his throat as he jolted beneath him, eyes blown wide and nails digging into Renji’s back.

He ground his hips against Ichigo’s, watching him moan and writhe at the overstimulation.   _‘Ah god, look at him,’_ he thought, this broken noise escaping his throat as he seized Ichigo’s limp body to him and kissed and thrust on him until he reached satisfaction — and for a few moments, he felt weightless, shuddering in pure ecstasy.

  Because at last, everything feels as it should. It’s as though all of Ichigo has consumed him, his body, his reiatsu, all of it, wrapping through him —  at last, the two of them are together.

 _‘.....  There… Look at that. Zabimaru, look... '_     
  
             Zabimaru merely purred and rumbled in contentment.  
  


Ichigo seemed embarrassed in the afterglow when they parted, laying side by side, soggy, having made a mess of themselves. He self-consciously put his hand to his front at the wet spot and cleared his throat. He looks away, hiding his face, and all Renji can see are his red ears. Renji snorted and sat up, stripping his damp clothes off and heading to the bathroom for a cloth and a change of clothes for Ichigo.

Renji flopped back down on the bed when he returned, laying on his back, and letting out a long sigh of satisfaction, watching as Ichigo awkwardly shoved his hand in his hakama and scrubbed himself with the washcloth.

The kid didn’t seem to know what to say, glancing around, uncertain of himself — and Renji felt sorry then that he’d rushed things along so quickly, but he can’t bring himself to feel _very_ sorry.       
  


“How do you feel?” he murmured.   

 

  
Breathily, Ichigo blurted, “That was…” He let out a slow exhale and then met him in a kiss, shoving his head onto Renji’s _fast,_ like he didn’t think he could get the courage up otherwise, and when Renji took his head in his hands and kissed back, he [melted.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DDwYCKME53U)

“That was somethin’ alright,” Renji agreed. “C’mere, stud.” Ichigo sheepishly smiled a little, relaxing in relief as Renji coaxed him down next to him, onto his chest. Renji just basked in it, sated and contented and proud even.

He let Ichigo scold him a little, but understandably, it didn't effect his mood much. “I dunno’ what’s going on with you, but you’ve been weird. Don’t even deny it because you wouldn’t have rushed it like you did if you weren’t,” Ichigo mumbled, picking at Renji’s chest with a trailing fingertip. “You an’ me might be a couple a’ rash dumbasses, but you’re goddamn stubborn when you wanna' be, and you were set on doing things slow.”

“So what. I’m passionate.”

“My foot, you are! It was really sudden is all I’m saying. You only told me that you… _like me_ a couple weeks ago." Renji smiled, finding it charming that Ichigo can still get so flustered and shy about it even after doing something like that together.   

"And then…!" Ichigo grumbled a little. "Seriously, Renji, two days ago, I’m not even sure if I’d ever even thought about us . . . _doing anything_ like that, and then out of nowhere you started giving me these _looks_ and trying to seduce me or some shit.” He covered his face with his hand. “I still can’t believe I just did that… Sheesh.”

“But you wanted it,” Renji said, the words ringing anxiously in his ears for a second. “I didn’t make you. You don’t regret it.”

“No,” Ichigo agreed. “But I don’t wanna’ rush anymore.” He yawned and then settled his head more comfortably. “I know you didn't want to either. Not really. You don't change your mind that easy." Renji clenched his teeth and didn't respond; it's scary how well Ichigo knew him.    "Did something happen?"

"No."    __  
'Not yet.'  
  
"Whatever, you don't have to tell me, but like I said, whatever it is, I don't wanna' rush anymore."  Renji can hardly believe they're like this, Ichigo nestled onto his bare chest, warm and soft, eyes sweetly closed.   "Don’t think that I’m gonna’ just let you do what you want all the time. I was lookin’ forward to those dates, ya’ know,” he murmured.  
  
“Okay,” Renji breathed, and maybe that's just the fool he is, but he felt that fear ease with his nose pressed into Ichigo’s sweaty hair. “We won’t rush anymore. Whatever you want.”

They lay there together for a long time, and Ichigo had long since fallen asleep, resting against him under the covers, comforting him with the soft whistle of air through his nose and the gentle motions of his chest as he breathes. Renji ought to be in heaven, and he was, but he found he couldn’t get to sleep himself, not with his mind wandering the way it was.

It's strange, but once he stopped running that guilt and worry back and forth, from how he'd acted before, getting so pushy with Ichigo just because he'd gotten scared — once he'd put that to rest, he kept landing on something else.

He kept thinking back to how Ichigo had said that the guy who’d poisoned all of the victims of the madness — Ikkaku was the one who’d been fighting him.    

 

    _‘You don’t think he was hit though, do you? He's been acting really weird — is there a connection, do you think?’_

_‘As I’ve said, he smells as though his heart’s gone rotten.’_

_‘But what does that_ mean? _It doesn’t mean he was poisoned too._ ’

  
Yumichika had seemed strange today too, and as he lay there, it started to bother him more and more. As the minutes ticked by, it seemed glaringly obvious that something was very wrong. Even if his suspicions were mistaken, the risk seemed too large to bear.

Every other person who’d been struck with the venom had murdered, or tried to murder their best friend, as if that heart gone rotten knew exactly what it loved the most and sought to destroy it.  
  


       _‘I think I need to go check on Yumichika.’_  
  


Renji sat up in bed, fixing the blankets behind him and then got up to get dressed. Looking back to Ichigo where he lay sleeping, he leaned down and kissed him on his smooth perfect cheek, a hand stroking his head. He shook him a little until he woke, and murmured to him that he was stepping out for a bit, he’d be back, go back to sleep.

Ichigo nodded, eyes drifting shut again, out like a light, and Renji smiled, tucking the blanket over him with care. He kissed his forehead one more time and then pulled away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey while you're waiting for an update, please do me a favor and try reading 'Dragon and the Pearl.' It's also got Ikkayumi and Renichi in it, along with a lot of plot twists!
> 
> it got all its hits in the first few weeks and now no one at all reads the updates, which sucks because I think it's pretty good!


	12. Chapter 12

 

Yumichika knew what he had to do, but he couldn’t help but feel unsettled by it. By the time he went home to confront Ikkaku, it was dark outside and the moon was high in the sky.

He snuck into the house, so eerily silent that his own unsteady breathing being the only discernible noise just served to agitate him further. Walking down the hallway, he opened the door and found Ikkaku in their room, laying on his bed, silent and motionless.  _'Asleep,'_ he would have told himself, but he knew now that everything was all  _wrong_.

Heart in his throat, he crept over to him and placed a hand on his arm. He shook him, then harder when it didn’t rouse him, but Ikkaku lay there as if dead, jostling about limply despite Yumichika’s rough shaking.

Yumichika was breathing fast then, tight-lipped in growing panic, his head pounding with the rush of his pulse. He put a hand to Ikkaku’s face, ran a finger along his eyelashes, prodded him in his ticklish side, even gave his cheek a couple light swats.      


_“ Ikkaku,”_ he finally managed, and [Ikkaku awoke.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Eubj9OF5nEA)  
  


Well, that wasn’t the right word for it. He didn’t inhale or stretch or yawn as he usually did — instead, his eyes merely shot open, as if he’d been awake all along, giving Yumichika a scare. He let out a shaky breath, relief and alarm warring within him.

He let out a sigh as Ikkaku’s eyes focused on him.  


The next second was a blur. Ikkaku sat up in a flash and pounced on him, and for a moment, Yumichika didn’t even know what had happened, disoriented — but everything sharpened when Ikkaku breathed,  “̣Ḍ̣̝͍̬o҉n̹̫͉̖̫̙’͙̫̟͎̻͓t͕ ͔c͔̖͈̹̳͖̬a͖̝͖͎ļ̻l͞ ͖̣̫͚̥̬m̜̰͖̲͕͔̗͠e̛̳ ͝t̘̰̙͉͉͔͔͝h̵̙̦͇̖a̘t͈͓̜̳̱,̛̖͎̥̠̹”   teeth bared in a ferocious grin.  


He was pinned on his back on the floor, strewn across his own bed, and Ikkaku was choking him, pressing him so far down into the futon that he couldn’t even move, couldn’t breathe. He was squeezing so hard that Yumichika can’t see or think, he was blanking on everything except shock, fear, and that he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t get any air at all.

He only snapped out of it when a blinding pain ripped through his arm, so sharp that it had to be Ikkaku's teeth, digging and shredding up the flesh. The shock of it made him jolt, made him kick and thrash, but Ikkaku fought him just as hard. He was completely vicious, scratching him like an animal, fisting his hands in the flesh of his stomach and squeezing like he wanted to pop through and claw out his organs, his short nails already puncturing the skin.

Ikkaku’s thumb dug mercilessly into his windpipe, closing it completely, and with spots flashing before his eyes, it hit Yumichika then that this was it. Ikkaku was going to kill him. He was really going to kill him.  


      “̺̪D̰͖o̤̳̦e͕̼̬̲̹s̬̟̙̝̣̘̖ ̗̤̙͇̫̲i͔͔t̙̠͉̫ ͉͇͇͇̠̞͙h̫u̱͙̦̟͚̩͓r̞t͍͎͙͇?”͈̥̟̗̞  Ikkaku finally spoke, his voice dark and vindictive, soaked with relish.  


Yumichika couldn’t answer, couldn’t cry for help, darkness rolling in around him like smoke. He was seeing black. Everything was static, even Ruri’iro’s panicked fluttering in his ears — it's just noise. He couldn’t make sense of anything, couldn’t feel anything except the pain, the vise-like grip on his neck and his own hand prying desperately at Ikkaku’s fingers.  


  
          ͓̗ͦ͂ ̦̝̆̑͆̓͒ͭ ̻̥͕̙͉̠̥ͫ̚“̘͍̼̦̜̜͒ͪ̌̇ͩ̓Ṱ̾͊ͯͧ̿ḥ̘̝̰̄͆͂e̞̹̻̗͔͉͛ͤ̈͛n̟͍̭̥̉̾ͧ ͖̱̠̬͙͖̈̑ͥͤc̗͉̞̎̾̆r̖̦̥͎̘̝ẙ̩̩̝̠ͭ͋ͩ!͉̤̲͖̙”̈́̅ͬ  


 

Yumichika pretty much snapped then, going into survival mode, because Ikkaku was trying to tear him apart with one hand and snap his neck in the other — he was going to die.

In a wild move, Yumichika brought his leg up sharply and after a few tries, kicked Ikkaku in the gut, over and over, until he was released. He gasped and heaved, hands flying to his throat, but he didn’t have time to do anything but fight Ikkaku off him. It's hopeless really — Ikkaku has always been stronger and faster. There was no escaping.

He knew what was happening. He knew, and afterwards, if Ikkaku ever came back to himself like that other man had, this guilt would haunt him forever, to the end of his days, and until then, he would waste away in prison all on his ownsome.

Yumichika’s been a fool. He’d seen the warning signs, but he’d been so selfish, so self-centered that he’d thought it had to be all about him, that Ikkaku must have been punishing him personally. Maybe because he hadn’t wanted to see there was something wrong with the one he loved, that he was sick and needed to be put away until he could be saved, brought back to sanity.

He’s been a fool to ignore it this long, he’d been given so many chances, with the way Ikkaku’s madness hadn’t struck all at once, too suddenly to be caught, instead dragging itself out — and now he was going to pay for that foolishness, because it’s too late and now Ikkaku can’t be stopped. If he'd been faster, if he'd been smarter or braver, maybe things would've been different. If he'd been better, then maybe, but he's not, and it's too late.  


_'Yumichika!'_

_'You were right all along, Ruri'iro. In the end, I was never good enough.  I wasn't enough.'_

 

   It's too late.

  


.  .  .

 

 

  ̉͌ͪ̈̈́ͥ̆‘Ỉ ͌ẘ͊̚aͥ͗̋ͯͮ̆ñ́͌ͤt̀ͩ̆̄̆̆ ̌ͪ̽̐̈́͊͛t͂̈́ͦ̀̔oͦ ̇ͤ̏̓͛ĥaͥ͒ͪ̌r̂ͤ̿mͫ̓ͥ̂͑̈́͗,̃͌͐͗ ͩ̿Iͭ̑̏ ̋ͨ̀ͤwͫaͬͮ̀̚n͂̏͋̑ͦͬ͒t̑̅ ͊̏̒̔̓̂t͋̿͂̾̌̉̉ỏ ̆̓͗͂c͋ͧaͥuͨ̐s̈́͊ͯͩͪ̒ͮe͌ ͆̾ͤp̑ͥ̇͊̓ă̈́ͯ͐͂í̃̃̒ͫͨ͑n̂̂ͭ͛, ͂͂I͊ͤ ͫ̏̆͐ͦͯw͊ͩ̅̾ͬ̽͛a͆͋̽̚nt̑̅̊̄ ̋͊̚toͣͯ͋ ̆̎ͭ̐̂[d͊ͨe͊͌ͬ̏̓̈́͛s͑̑̂͛̊́t͑́ͦͦ̍̚rͥͩ̐͗͐̉oͫ͊̿̽̐͐̋y̅̿̂.̈̆ͩ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-5G3x0CnFOA)’ ̽̎̀ ̽ͪ ̽̒͊̌͑

 

 ͝‘̶Sc̡ream͠ ͢so I ̵can ̛he̶a͠r̨ i҉t̨. ̨B̸le̸ed so ҉I̕ ҉c͏a͡n ͠tast̶e͢ it. ̧S̨t̨ruggl̸e sơ ͢I ca͏n f̕ee҉l i̵t̴.͟’ ͜  


__  
_̮͓̹̗͕‘̩̝̳̖̰̦I̼͉ ͙͙̲͖ͅw̰̤a̻̳nt̯͍̩ ̼̪͉̹̱̣̜y̲̲͎͎o͓̬̯̖̝͕ṵ̬r̭̦̙̘͙̻ ̝̜̦̫̻͎̫s̩̠̘uf̤͉̜̲̼̲̙f̳̮͙͓̺̯̞e̙͓̭r̹̦̰̱̫ͅị̠n̝̹g̟̳͙̗̞,̙̜͔͚ ͙͓ͅI̖̲͍̦͔͇ ͇̣̗̲͉wa̦̱n̫̠̠ͅt̖͖͙ ̳͓̹͎̲ͅy͈͇͔̞o͓̠u̞̣̝̳r͖͈̫͍̝ ̬͉̜p̠ai̹̰͚̫̗͙n̰.̝̼̳̫͉͙ ̻̘̪̱ͅI̟̺̣t͙ ̫͔̫͚gi̖̦̣̫̜̠̼v̤͍e͍̻͕̲s̱̙ ̯͖̗̥m̫̼̳͚ͅe͉̙̟̜ ͉̤͔͙p̗̥̼o͚̰̣̬̥w͉̞͔͔̯e͎͇r̳.͖̲ ̮͇̙̥I̖̬͍̘t͍̟ ̫̩̯͇̜͍g͇i̟̙͕͚̻v͎̻̩̺̞̥e̙͎̤̯͈͇s͚ ̭̼̻̩̯̣m̠͇͉̻̝̯ẹ ̰̝͔ḷi̗f̯̼̙e̜͓̘̯̗̪̲.̰̗̻_ ̲̪ I t̫̘̺͈͍͔̯ ̪p̰̙̪̗̲̰u̻̺̝̰̙̖ṱ̱s̩̥̙̲ ̞̭̰̩̳̱a̜̬͉i̗r ̹̖͍i͚n͎ ̲̞̤m̠̲͚̦y̥̬̦̱ ̟̯̦͖l̘͖̗͓̺̳u̦͔͎̥͔ng̼͔s̝͙.̱͍͚̞̩͕̭’̯  


 

Yumichika was fighting him, but he’s always been much bigger and stronger. By comparison, Yumichika was a twig, a toothpick, weak and fragile, so easily and so beautifully broken.

Ikkaku eventually grew bored with his struggling and just backhanded him, so hard that Yumichika’s cheek came away bloody and he lay there stunned against the floor, dazed. He was still moving slightly, enough that Ikkaku knew that he’d hear him when he whispered in his ear:

    “I̥̯̰͖͇͙̳’̯̼m̟͍̯͉̲ ̗g̲͓̗̤o̯̮nn̮͈a͙͕̼̤̙’̠͎̗̭̙ ̰r̰̠̦ͅi̲̗̝͍̩̭̥p̜͉̼͕̮͔ ̫̼̙y̹̙o̠̤̙̬̖͖u͍̳r̙̟͓̠̪ ̻̠͙͎͓̠he̱͎̰a͍̺͚̣̟̯̥r͕̞̫t ̞͎ou̙̱̳̼̞̻ͅt̝̖̜͉̞̤.̻͖̩͍̻̲̳”͎͚͉̫  
  


Choking him wasn’t sedating him quickly enough, because Yumichika kept trying to struggle as Ikkaku opened his clothes up — and that was the one gentle moment. He was nice and slow opening up the ties to his clothes, watching the shame and disbelief play over Yumichika’s clammy pale face. He’s beautiful like this, in his moment of abject terror and humiliation.

Yumichika had the nerve to try and push him away, a dazed hand shoving his chest, the other wrapped desperately around his to try and loosen the vise-grip he kept on his throat, and in his irritation, Ikkaku hit him in the head with his fist, over and over. He punched his face, his nose, banging his skull against the ground until his fighting died down as he went into a stupor, laying there pliant beneath him. He let go of his neck, pleased with the way he stayed still, eyes glazed over, face a bashed and bloody mess.

  It wasn’t enough; this blood was not enough. These tears were not enough.    _‘I want to violate, yes, and then I’ll have more._ M͏ore s͘cream͟s and͢ pa͠i̕n a҉n̡d ͏bloơd̕ ҉o̶n̵ ͠my̵ ͡h̛a̶n҉ds̨.’҉  
  


_‘͗̑͌̊̽Ỉ̛̃ͯ ̴̓ͣ̐͑͗̒̇m̊̋ú̡ͤ̇̏ͥŝt̔̏̅̐ ̅͊ͦ͂́̐d́̒ͣͭ̿̉͟oͧ̋ͪ̂ͩ ̊̆ͦiͤͯ͌t̂̿ͦͯ͢.ͮ̽̆ ̀̊I w͞a͞nt̶ t̡o vi̛ol̸ate҉,̴ and͟ I ̢w̛il͜l,͡ ̶o̺̤r̸̹̬͈̟̻ I̜͢ ͜w̳̭͔͉̥͙͝i̟̹͚͕̺l̴̻̜͈̬̼l̮̪̰̯͓̫ ͓͖di̷e̢̦͕̝̬.̖͎͙̬’̼͎̠̘̻͔ͅ_

 

Ikkaku felt exhilirated. No one was gonna’ stop him this time!

   _‘I’ll pump you fulla’ my cum and burn you from the inside, and then I’ll break your bones and grind them into sand, and if you ever wake to sanity, you’ll see my name on your skin, inside you, everywhere. There will be no place within you that I have not reached, that I have not made you filthy._ _͝You̡ w̵ill͏ n͜e͠ve͢r͡ ̕kn̢ow pea͝ce.͟ ͡_ _I̯ ̧w̲̳̬̞̳i͏͉̻l҉l҉̥̱̪̰̬ ̨h̤a͇̼͎̝͓̖͕ve̳̞̮̞ ̩p͓̗̺̟͜ǫ̲̮̞͕̭̖͓w̹̙̥̥͞e̟̲̜̺͕ṟ̥̫̻̺͕͓ ҉͈̰̦͇̼͓̖o҉͉̞̬̻̼ve͉r̨̟͈͇̣ ̪̰̦̭̪ͅyơ̺̹͎̥̫͇u͇͞ ̠͍̥̻t͇h̵̰a̳̹̮ț̳͉̤̻ ̫y̖̯o̩̝̙̩̙̲u͕̻̖͈͔͜ ̤̭̝̟w͜i̶̜͎̰͕ͅl̯̫͉̪̪l͍̪̤̬͎̣͈ ̧̺̰ͅn̹̕ev̝̗͍͉̼͎͈e͉̖̺͘ͅr҉̹̺̟̥̟̥ ͇̙ͅescape.͈̮’̶̭̻͇ͅ_

 

 _‘Y̨o͡ur h͟e̕art ͞is͜ ̨mine.͝’_  


 

 _“͔͚Y̜ou̼̭r̠̘̖̦ ͔̱͓̠͓̫͖h̦e̹̟̳̮a̞̺͕̩̬r̟̰̘̹̥̳t͖̠͎̼͚ ̬̻̝̗͕̙̞i̭̰͔͚̫̱s̭̩̣̜͇ͅ ̜̲̤̖̞̳m͕i̻̳͖n͕e̝͓!̼”_  he howled, _G̖̫̠̫̯̥͉ͥͥ̕ͅì̺͖͙̾̓̿ͧͩ͂ͤ̓͝ͅv̮̙͇͐̎̍̆̉͡eͬ̂͘͏̯̟͉̤̣̞̞̰͞ ̹͉͙̘͓̆͒͆ͬ̽͛͑͒͜i̠̘ͧ̓̍͋̏ͬͭţ͙̤͖ͬ̿̅̓͌̽ͣ ̨͚̼̘̭̜̫̱ͥͫ̉̆̊͞t̶̘͓͇̂ͫo̦͓̤̯͙̼͓͕̒̒͒̂ ̢̳͔̙̜̘̼̪ͧ͗͑ͦ̎m͚͂̈́͒̀̚͠e̶͑̈́̏͊͛ͧ̓͟͏̥̭͉̮̬̣̙͓̖!̛̺̩̗̮͊̌̈́̊̊͐̓̒̚͞”̪̜̬̦̥̳͑͋͘_

  


A muffled sob escaped Yumichika’s chest at that.

    A thought came to Ikkaku then. This one’s heart isn’t in the chest. This one was guarding something from him alone.    _O̕pen͠ ̸u͜p i͡ts͞ ͜legs͡ ̕and ̶ta̡ke̴ the̷ ͟h͝eart. Ta̕ke t͡he ͞he̶a̷rt͞ it͝’̷s ͝keep͜i̛n͜g̶ ̷fr̸om ͠onl͘y yo̧u.  ͠ ͞ ͏_

_̮̗ ͖͒̽͋̐ͥT̫̐h̛̫̳̩̝͎͍͛̿i͍̲̩̫̎̃͟s̖̋̊̃ͧ ̰̿ͥ̇̽̒̾ͣi̖̟͖̋̃̑ͩ̆̋̐ş͈̌̇ ̥̠̓ͨ͋ț̯̂̍̆h̜̰̫̳̍̈́ͧͯ̿ͦͅe̫̙̼̯̮͍̞̒̅͘ ̦̥̦̜̹ͥ̄ͥͩ̾ͅo̟̻̝̞͉̦̭͡n̴̳̥ͧ́̍̃ͨ͂̍l͖̫̹y̯̗̖̥̫̎ͅ ͖̬͚̲w̮̖̍͐̓͗ͦ̿ͤã̬̜͂y̟̥͇̠̪̟͗͢.̦͉̣́̽́͘_

  


He remembered very clearly then that he thought, _‘How do you know that?’_ because for the first time, his thoughts had become something that he didn’t recognize. This dark impulse within him has been driving him along all this time, but now there was a voice there, telling him what to do, and he didn’t-...

     _‘Houzukimaru?’_ he called for the last time.

As soon as it’s there, it’s gone, too excited by the opportunity to feast and finally sate this hunger that nothing else meant anything.      _‘W̕h͡at’s ͏th̷is ̛h̷er̨e̸,’̕_ he noted, hand meeting the smooth scabbard of a sword, worthless though it was when he was going to dig in with his bare hands in a moment.

He uncurled Yumichika’s limp hand and splayed it flat along the floor, pinned it there with his foot to keep it still, and in a burst of energy, unsheathed the blade and stabbed it through. As it went in, Yumichika’s body came alive again, and he screamed, one long wail.      ‘T̠̫̮̬̹̲̯h͕͉͍̹͉e̗̗r̤̻̱̟̮̼̻e̺̯̻̲̫̫’̬̹͔̳s͓͉̗̙͍̯ ͙̜͉͙t̹̙̜̯͈͍̟w̥o̯̱͓,̣͉͈ l̲̖̼̣oo͖̥k̹̥̯̰ ̣t͔̞̞̩̘her̲̥̰ͅe̹̪̬͈̱̳͉’̘̖͙͙͈ͅs̻ͅ ͉̮ạ̟̻̭͇̟n̥̱̯͕̮͈̘o̼ͅt̫h͔̼̗̫͖̦ẹ̙̣̮͓r̙̲̠͙͚̘̭ j̱u̻͕͕̟͔͉s̗͖͚̦̖t̩͍̫͇ ̗̳̳̞͚͔͕h̭̤̣ẹ͙̱͇ͅr̼̱̪̲͔̻e͉̰̖̼̙ͅ.̬̭’  


He was too zealous with the other, the red one, and separated the carpals in Yumichika’s hand completely, piercing his palm and then ripping free between his fingers, and when it wouldn’t stay anymore, he stabbed it back through into his wrist, held there between the bones of the forearm.

Ears ringing with Yumichika’s agonized screeching, Ikkaku spread open his weakly kicking legs and pulled his fundoshi apart. Yes, this way was the best. He will be made to look at him while he penetrated him, fucked him, _raped him — took his heart for his own and ate it whole._

Yumichika had cracked; he’d lost his mind from the pain, Ikkaku can see that from the way he writhes and squirms despite the futility, from the way his voice came out fast and strained as he cried out and _begged_. How he loved it when they beg.

 _“No, no,_ Ikkaku, anything else, not this, not this, _please not this.”_   He’s beautiful like that, wet with saliva and pained tears and cold sweat and _blood,_ beautiful and disgusting in the way he grovels. He hardly stopped to take a breath, begging and pleading with him, his voice rising in panic and the agony of it all, and at long last, it’s not silent now. It’s perfect.

  “Stop, please stop, _please!”_

Ikkaku wasn’t going to stop. It was far too late.  


        He spread Yumichika apart.  

                 Take it, ta͡k̕e it͠,̶ _t̵ak҉e ͜it,̷ take ͠i̢t, ̜̮t҉͉a̧̝͉̻k͕̙͚͚e̙̟͟,̣̪͓̩̖_ _͕̲̩̻̹̠̘t̼a̬̻͚̥̤k̥̥̤̪̦̟͕ḛ,̡ ̓t̙ͧâ̖̜̗ͭ̽ͧ̏ͮk̷͕̳͚̬͋̓͗̅ͅḛ̟̞̎̆̚,̷̘͈̋ͩͤͫ̔̊ ̵̪̘͓͉̱̙̽ͬ̈͋̓̇͒t̫ͣ͂̑̚ả͕̲̻̪̙̓͛͂k̠̹̖̮ͨ̔e̩,ͤͩͩ̿ͅ ̢̣͉̘ͥ͂̀͒ͦͨ **t̬̞͚͚̬̺̤̎ͫͨ̆͡a̬͓͙̱̒̌̊́͆ͦ͘k̡̻͎̪͎̼̰ͧ̒̈́̐̉̊̅ẽ͇͉̝̊̒,̶͙̳͓̦̬̈́ͧͤ̎͒̀̈ ̦̹̤̘̗̃̓̾͊t̰͕̖̲̬̂͊̆͑̄̕ā͍̲̗̯͓͑k͍̱̼̠͓̈̇͌͐͂͂̆e̹̻̓̀̇̂̊!̝͍̓̍ͫ͗̿͘!̘̲̳͔͎̰̱ͪ́͒́̐͢!͛̌̆̿̿̈̈** _

 

He lined up and penetrated, forcing it in despite the skin catching and dragging in protest. It’s good, it’s so good that he sighed in relief through his teeth, shoving forward until he was encased inside and the rough chafing eased with a gush of blood. Yumichika gasped and jolted beneath him at the shock of it, and as Ikkaku thrusted the rest of the way in one sharp motion, he began to sob suddenly, choked hiccupy shuddery gasps coming out each time he threw his body against him, slamming himself onto him.

 “Please, not you, no, please, not you, not you,” he wept, bitter tears rolling endlessly. “Please stop, please. _No, no, oh god-”_

 

     _‘Yes, y͏e̷s̵, do̸ ̴i͞t͜, l͙̳͉͎̫̗͟o̘̞̳̖ok̸͎͙ ̴͉͉̙a̗͕̥̙̕t̸ ̙̺̯̮̘̯̳͝h͖͍̘̲i͇̺̫̹̬̹m̞̰̘͎̭͘ ͏͓̤̜̘̘͈c̨͖̖̣͍̬͖͍r̖̲̜͝y͙̼͖̼̤ͅ!̗̳’̸_

  


Laughter bubbled out of him in his enjoyment, mixing with panting as he worked his body against Yumichika’s, thrusting violently. It’s so easy with the blood coating him, soaking through onto his legs and into the floor and making a bed beneath them for them to lay on together.

Yumichika fell silent about halfway through. Sometime after the begging ceased, Ikkaku slowed down. The tears had stopped. He’s stopped reacting. He wasn’t screaming anymore.   Why wasn’t he screaming? Quiet, too quiet!  


      _‘No, I was mistaken. What a shame. This one’s different._ _I̴t̶ ͝h͟as n̷o ͢h̛e̢a͢r̨t̴ at ͟a͞ll.҉’͢_

_‘͘I͟t’s giv̸ȩn ̴i҉t aw̢ay or ̶som̢ethi͞n̨g, ͟h̕i̡d̢den i̸t͞ away̡.͜’_

__  
_  
_ ‘̴̂ͧN̢̺̆͌ͭ͛ö͕͇́̇ͤ,͙̹̱͔̫̤̪̔̐̄ͦ̎̈́̂ ̺͕̋͂̈̏̀͑̍͠n͈̪͐̊͊̓̽͛ͪȍ̼̣͈̖̹̫̉̈́̆͑ͮ͛,ͮ͐ͪ̃ͪ̾͗͢ ̳̞̖̼̼̣̣w̱̹ͯͮͭ͞h̞̟̳̪͗̏͗e̶̲͇̮̝̓r̴͉̮̦͔͈͙̄͛̈ë̜̪̤͙͉̣͚́̇͌̈́̿ ̵̬͚̫̭̘̪̅̉ͤi̧̘̘̓͒̒̏ͯs̫̎ ͭ̏ͥi̬̜ͦ̏ͩ̓̈t̢̺̖͈̮̦.̙͕̳̼ͦ͊͢ ̯̹̩̯ͮ͟ͅ **W̑̈́͋̊͠ḫ̵̪̰̰̘̿͊̄ͥͦ̑ͭe͞ṟ̙̼̘́̏̃͆ͭ̾̆͢e̛̘͕ͨͫ̍͊ͣ̎̑ ̝̗͎̰̣͕ͪ̌ͣ͝ĭ̸̙̤͕͉͛ͭͧ̋̀ͅs̙͞ ̂̂͆̉͛ͫi̫͔̻̋ͨ͞t̸̞ͯ͊͛ͤ̎͂?̸͔̖̱̫̳̠̇’̟̪͇̳ͮ**

  
‘͈̞̤͉I͏̲͕ͅ ̖̲̳͇͡w̢͎͔a̺̭͍̕s͈̥̼̺̩ ̳̰̲̤̲͜s͉͖̕u̠̩̰͍̞̦͜ͅr̛̠̬̟̮͎̳e͏̜̥̱̣̙̣̜ ̡͖̠̟i̝ṯ̻̫͎̫͈̲ ̢̱̜̘̮w̞͉̠̱̼̟a̩͓̮̹s̹̖̦ͅ ̜͇͚̭̦̮h̞̜̪̩̫̖e͕̪̲̮r̶̖̩̳̟͔̩e̳͔̜̥̝̭,͍͕̝ ̡̤͇̳̝̮͙w͙͈̩̮h͔͙͎̜ẹ̭̲̣̞̲r̞͎e ̵i͝s̫̗ ͇̪͖͈̞͘h̵e̸͔͙̘̺ ̳͖h͚̘̮͚̫͇͙͘i̵ḍi͖͚ņ̱͉̘̩g̜͕̹ ̻̗͉̰̖͎i̫̯t̘͎?̳’̫̩͎͚̱

 

  
    ͡ ̕“Whe͘r̢e ͢is̵ i͜t?̴” he barked, **_“̬͕̝͚T̨̲̰͉̖e̜̩̰͢l͏l ̜̩̥͕m̼̹e̱̙̲͉͓̜̘͝!̰̠͉̦̝̼̫”̸͓̠͇̖͈̙_ **

  


He slapped Yumichika’s slack face, but he was so limp and lifeless at that point that he was useless to talk to.

Ikkaku stared down at the wreck he’d created with a dissatisfied frown.  

 

 _‘What a waste,’_ he thought.         
                                                       ‘I’d better kill him.’  
  


Yumichika lay there completely still as Ikkaku began choking him with both hands. He could feel the pulse in his neck growing weaker.  Yes…. He imagined that as each pulse got weaker, it was growing stronger inside of him.

      _‘There he goes… It’s almost over now… al̵mo҉s̡t…’͏_

  


Suddenly, the deafening, unbearable, horrible silence broke.

   He could hear the ferocious roar of a dragon consume him whole, so loud that he thought the earth must be shaking, and for the first time since it’s all started, he felt fear. His body seized up, his muscles locking for a moment, and through blurry vision he can see that the sword stabbed through Yumichika’s wrist was glowing brightly.

The tension flows out of him and everything went quiet again for a moment. He felt complete and utter clarity, his mind sharp and focused in a way it hasn’t been for weeks, yet he was still endlessly confused by what was happening around him, the situation he found himself in.

He stared down at himself for a couple moments, because he thought he must be dreaming, must be having another completely twisted dream, was seeing something horrible, but not something real. It hadn’t set in yet.     


  [‘What is this?...’](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N8uQBOrEv6g)  
  


He picked his hand up to his face, examining his red wet fingers, the way blood stuck between them in sticky viscous strings, creating bubbles and sheer orange webs between them each time they rubbed and separated. It felt alarmingly real.

Examining Yumichika beneath him with an uneasy frown, he reached out and turned his head to the side, brushing his hair off his face. When he did, turning Yumichika’s bloody bashed face up towards him, he saw that his eyes were open, so lifeless that he recoiled, startled into backing away — and once he did, he realized, _shit_ , he was inside.  


‘Wh-... What? What!’  


He scrambled back, aghast, staring down between them in horror. There’s blood everywhere. This had to be a horrible prank. This was another nightmare. This was like the nightmares he’d been having, a cruel vision, but not real. It can’t be real. He was inside Yumichika and there was blood  _everywhere_ , wetting the floor and soaking their hips where they connected, coating his dick, seeping out between them even now _._ This can’t be real. Tell him it isn’t true, god, please…

The terror and the denial of the situation kept the penny from dropping. His breath stuck in his throat, closed and tight with panic, because shit, Yumichika was dead, he was laying there dead on the ground, staked to the floor,  _mutilated,_ a horror to look at, how has this happened — who’s done this.

No, no one else was here, and who would play this kind of trick on him? . . .  


_. . . He_ has done this. Hasn’t he.

  


        Hasn’t he.


	13. Chapter 13

The more Renji thought about it as he made his way to the Eleventh under the light of the moon, the more he remembered all the strange things Ikkaku had said to him in the past days, and more than that, what _Yumichika_ had said, how he’d reacted when Renji had told him about the Arrancar Ichigo had been hurt by, how he’d hurried off to find Ikkaku. All of it just led him to believe that something really was going on, that Ikkaku was about to snap.

Renji just wanted to make sure he was okay. If he was wrong, he’d feel silly later, but not before he checked. If something _was_ wrong with Ikkaku, Yumichika was the one most in danger. He’s the one Ikkaku loved the most of anyone.

He’d woken Ichigo up before he’d gone. It wouldn’t be right to leave him in an empty bed after they’d made love as they had.   _“I have to go check on something, I’ll be back soon, okay?”_ he’d whispered, running a hand over his sweet head soothingly. _“Go back to sleep.”_

Renji grit his teeth and stepped into shunpo, hurrying more than ever and hoping to high heaven that nothing was wrong — but the dread that was building told him that something _was._

He got Captain Zaraki too, because they’d met by chance on the way, both up late and wandering the streets. When he told him where he was going, he seemed to share Renji’s concern, and followed him. It was better that way. Renji knew he shouldn’t go by himself. Ikkaku needed to be taken in. Even if nothing had happened, they should just put it down to luck, because Ikkaku was a ticking time bomb.

 

He just hadn’t expected it to be [too late.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pFKpEPf6qdg)

 

When he opened the door to the place Yumichika and Ikkaku shared together, the hair stood up on the back of his neck. He could hear noise in the bedroom, _heavy breathing,_ and could smell…

 _‘Blood,’_ Zabimaru said.

 _‘Blood,’_ Renji repeated numbly, alarmed, coming to the end of the hall to their room, and for a moment, he just stood there and went pale, almost collapsing in the doorway at the sight of the carnage.  
  


The next moment was rage. Pure, blinding, hot, unadulterated _rage._  
  


He roared and charged on Ikkaku, hands fisting in his clothes and throwing him back. _“What did you do?! Wh- what the fuck did you do?!”_ he howled.

Ikkaku just stood there, bloody hands up in front of him, face slack in alarm and pale, with a sheen of sweat. He stared at his palms and then at Renji, frozen and unseeing. He started shaking his head.

“Don’t even say anything! Don’t you goddamn say anything to me! He was your friend — _and you, you-!_   Fuck, you're _sick!"_ he hollered, heart tightening with grief. "Was it nice getting your dick wet?! How was it, _murdering_ the one person who- who-... ?! . . . How  _could_ you?!” Renji spat, chest heaving with fury. “How could you _do_ this?!”  Sputtering, he was hardly able to think he was so mad, so ready to tear Ikkaku limb from limb for what he _did, look what he did—_      
  


He can't think of anything to say to him, any name he can call him that will  _hurt_ him as much as he deserved, and eventually, all that comes out is:      _“ Pull down your pants — I'm gonna' cut it off!”_  
  


It was then that Yumichika seemed to revive, and Renji was startled enough that he forgot his rage for a moment and hurried to his side. He’d thought he was dead. He was still alive, laying there in a pool of blood, body broken and battered and shredded to pieces, but he’d begun to cough and move around weakly, the twitch of a foot, the flutter of his chest, his head tossing as blood bubbled at his lips.

“He woke up!” Renji breathed, frantic, hands hovering at Yumichika’s side, because there was still time. His friend could still be saved. But what should he do? Where can he touch him so as not to ruin the fragile hold he was keeping on life? How can he help him?   “Yumichika!” he called, placing a hand at his cheek, holding his face as he coughed and gasped for each breath.

“Yumichika, it’s me, it’s Renji, you’re safe now,” Renji tried, heart pounding hard, bile rising at the top of his throat. He’s known Yumichika for a long time, over forty years. Yumichika’s taken care of him, has watched him grow in skill and power and has been proud of his achievements, has always encouraged him. He was annoying and flighty and prickly at times, but he was a dear friend. To see him now, so mangled...

“Open your eyes. Open- We’re here now, it’s all over,” he tells him, but he doesn’t mean it.  
  
  


  Because nothing is over.    
  


   _‘Not while the one who did this still lives.’_

 

. . .

 

Ikkaku stared forward as Renji rushed past him.

He can see fine, his hearing is fine too, but he felt numb, like everything was happening in the distance, or underwater, like it wasn't real. It can't be real. Renji was patting Yumichika’s face frantically, talking to him and telling him to keep calm, but Ikkaku could feel Yumichika’s gaze on his back, digging in between his shoulderblades, he can feel the gaze and it _knew_ what he’d done.

Guilt and fear pierced through him like a knife. Renji’s accusations had fallen on ears that still rung numb with shock. He couldn’t accept the situation. This couldn’t be real.     
  


   _‘Someone, wake me up. I’m begging you.’_  
  


Renji eased the swords out of Yumichika’s hands and wrapped him in a bedsheet to cover him up where he lay bare and bloody. It's no good — it soaks through immediately, dark and glistening.   “I’m taking you to the hospital,” he said, voice tight and raspy with worry, with urgency. “Can you stand up?”

Yumichika tried, but couldn’t. His legs were shaking and slick with red lines as the blood ran down. Renji hefted one of his arms over his shoulder, gently squeezing his good wrist and pulling him to his feet. He helped him stumble out, half-dragging him, and left Ikkaku there with Zaraki-Taichou in the doorway.

He was stunned, the shock going on and on. Yumichika's face flashed through his mind, their happy memories, all their years together. No one's been there longer than Yumichika has, no one's been closer to him. He's never had a friend the way he and Yumichika have been friends. . . He… he didn’t know how he could have done this.

 

   _‘Is it true? . . . I’ve… I’ve done this to him?’_

 

         He didn’t know he could hate himself this much.

 

He can’t reconcile this. He can never make recompense to his best friend, the one he loved the most, for hurting him. The only thing to do was apologize, and then cut his belly open.

He cannot die with honor, but he cannot live in disgrace. He doesn’t deserve to live.

 

    _‘Come and kill me, Taichou.’_


	14. Chapter 14

Kenpachi stood there and stared for some time, until Renji had gotten a hold of himself and taken Yumichika out of there. Madarame just looked up at him, this stupid look on his face — it pissed him off.

He snarled and grabbed him by the scruff of his neck. He was _livid._ This kid had followed him for who knows how long, and this was who he really was, huh?   Did he think this was the kind of behavior he engaged in? That he would think nothing of it if he did that to one of his friends, or any man?

Worse was that he just couldn’t understand it, and that’s what made him mad. Ikkaku was like his kid. He’d thought he knew him. 

Madarame took the beating pretty well, didn’t fight him back the way he had that day in the yard or out in the field, didn’t grin or laugh about it, seeming to have some sense that he deserved it — he just let Kenpachi throw him around.

Finally, all he could do was stand there and stare at him, having beaten his face in, black and blue and bloody and all the rest.  “What the fuck, _why?”_ he demanded, because he didn’t understand.

He knew Ikkaku loved Yumichika. He knew that. Most _everyone_ knew that. Especially lately — the damn fool was downright lovesick, near openly affectionate. Kenpachi didn’t know what had gone wrong between them in the past few weeks. He didn’t get why this had gone on, why Ikkaku had started treating Yumichika like dirt under his feet out of the blue, and fuck, now he’d _raped_ him? — cut him to pieces, beat his face in, strangled him, who knows what else, and  _fucking raped him?_

Madarame had nothing to say to him, just lowered his eyes, hanging his head.  Kenpachi grit his teeth and _threw_ him across the room, sending him through the wall.

Kenpachi was a guy who didn’t turn his nose up at violence and he didn’t live by a code of honor, so to say, but that shit was unacceptable by anyone’s standard. That was _sick,_ right there — betraying one's best friend. Yumichika might not be his favorite subordinate, but Kenpachi liked him well enough. He had a lot of pride in him and he did almost all the paperwork around the division despite it not being his job to. He had the respect of the men despite his pretty-boy appearance and demeanor, and he kept everyone from destroying the place without spoiling the fun. He could get really annoying, sure, but he didn’t deserve to be treated like trash — worse than trash: _tortured._

Kenpachi would never stand for a crime like this to go unpunished in his division. He was beyond anger, beyond reasoning with. He doesn't care how Seireitei is supposed to handle these things, he's handling it right fucking here.

 

 _“Kneel,”_ he boomed, dragging the tip of his sword along the ground as he advanced on Madarame.

 

. . .  

 

      Ikkaku had pretty much accepted his fate. [He was going to die.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N8uQBOrEv6g)

 

The complicated relationship he had with the idea of dying has changed over the years. No longer does he want it only to be under the command of Zaraki Kenpachi, in the best fight of his life — well, he does, but he no longer seeks out that fight. He enjoyed life, his job, his friends, _Yumichika,_ god, he did, but all of that has turned to ash. He doesn’t want to live, not now.

The man he admired and devoted his life to has witnessed the depths of his shame, his depravity, and the one who admired _him_ most, who’d thought him a great man, looked up to him as a mentor and a brother, Renji has seen how low he’s sunk. And Yumichika, the one most precious to him, the one who’s always been there, whether he appreciated him or not, Ikkaku has made him suffer so much.  
  


          He was going to die. His captain was going to behead him.  
  


Ikkaku dragged himself out of the rubble, eyes wide. For how resigned he was, he hadn’t expected to tremble the way he was now. He hadn’t expected to be afraid during his moment of death.  
  


He just didn’t understand how things had gone so wrong. What had happened to him?

He remembered everything. It was all coming in hot aching flashes.  
  


For spending his time in an almost all-male division, Ikkaku liked women a lot. He likes gossip, and squishy hugs, and perfume. His oldest living memory was of playing with his older sisters. Now he couldn’t look a woman in the eye again, knowing the thoughts he’d had about them. He remembered Kotetsu’s fear, the look on her face — he remembered with a sort of dizzy terror, lurking down to the riverside, what he’d done to that girl, all alone and defenseless. He remembered his dream of Yachiru, _fuck, he felt sick.  
_

He’d hurt people. He’d raped people. He’s tried to murder his friend. He was like that man who’d torn his friend apart and then woken up later having destroyed everything he loved. He’d never thought that could be his life.  
  


How had he let himself fall so far?     

         He needed to be stopped.  
  


“Someone like you,” Zaraki-Taichou growled, hissing through his teeth, eye glaring down at him coldly, as though he were the scum, the slime of the earth, “who used his power that way, against people who ain’t even wanna’ fight you… you don’t deserve that power. That don’t make you strong, that makes you a bully. You don’t deserve your sword.”

Ikkaku hung his head, wallowing in the shame and despair of it all.

      “You’ll never fight again. I’ll cut off your hands, your dick, and then your head, so you can live with that shame before you die,” Zaraki barked, fuming for a moment, before he shouted, _“What kind of spineless, disgusting man are you, huh?   What kind of man are you?!’_  


Ikkaku’s lips parted, and the words just kind of hung there in the silence, unsaid.  
  


         _‘A man unlike any you’ve ever seen.’_  
  


Ikkaku just stared forward, before holding out his hands and putting his head to the floor.   “Do it,” he whispered. A few moments went by and nothing happened.

Agonized, Ikkaku’s body shuddered. He just wanted it to end. He could go no lower and he’d come to the end. Tears poured from his eyes, leaking down his face, his teeth harshly gritted. He’s raped the man he loves.  
  


   _“DO IT!”_  
  


Zaraki just stood there and looked at him then, like something loathsome and pitiful, his expression furrowing.   “. . . God man, _why?”_

Ikkaku didn’t care for his pity now. He wanted death, wanted what little recompense it might mean to end it all now that he’s hurt so many. The captain wasn’t killing him though, wouldn't strike him dead. He was just staring at him with such contempt that Ikkaku couldn’t bear it.   _Have pity, have mercy, kill him, please kill him, let the pain be over, just let him die—_  
  


  “Fucking pathetic,” he grumbled at last.   “You’re lucky I believe in letting a man enact his own revenge. When Yumichika can stand, don't think I won’t give him permission to cut you down in the public square, an’ don’t you _fucking think_  I won’t give him any help he’ll accept.   Your days are numbered.”

 

    He spat on Ikkaku, vicious about it, and left him on his own.

 

Ikkaku just sat there in the room, hands in a limp heap before him on the floor. He didn’t know how long he stayed like that, but he couldn’t move, dazed to a near stupor, because he’d lost the respect of everyone he cared about. He’d lost respect for himself.

What’s worse was that the voice was gone. The impulse was gone. He had nothing to prove to himself that he didn’t just do all this of his own free will, that he hasn’t been some sicko all along. He had no one to turn to in this dark time. Even the one who was always supposed to be there, no matter what horrible things he’s done, no matter what a bad person he was, the one who was always with him wasn’t at his side.

Houzukimaru was still silent, damn it, and all he felt for a moment was bitterness, because Ikkaku needed him. He ached to go home to Houzukimaru's cave, ached for some mature wise advice from someone older, someone who _knew_ him, knew all his strengths and flaws and fears.

Swallowing and looking about their destroyed rooms, he managed to take a few steps, ducking through the great crater he’d put through the wall, to the place where _it_ had happened. The blood has cooled and congealed on the floor, and there he was, tossed aside in the rubble. He's stained like Ikkaku's hands were, gleaming in the moonlight and spattered with Yumichika’s blood.

He knelt down and held the sword tentatively. It had glowed, he remembered it had, because that’s when that darkness, that terrible madness had stopped. He’d been brought to his senses in that moment, when it had glowed. He’d heard his dragon cry, breaking through the void between them. He’d been able to hear Houzukimaru, but he’d gone silent again.

Why wouldn’t he talk to him? Why couldn’t he retreat into his inner world, as though he were unwelcome, or as though there was some barrier there?   Oh, how Ikkaku wanted to talk to him. He didn’t know what was happening to him.  
  


    What was happening to his _soul?_  
  


As soon as Ikkaku could stand, could break out of his shock, he went to the hospital. He had to see Yumichika. He needed to beg his forgiveness. He needed to see that he was alive.   
  


  _‘Please tell me he’s made it. Please say I didn’t kill him.’_


	15. Chapter 15

 

Renji had never shown up again last night, so Ichigo had gone out to the hospital alone. He remembered being woken up and told that he just had to check on something and would be back, don't worry about it, but by the time Ichigo had woken up later, he still hadn’t been back, nor by the time he’d fumbled about getting ready for the day.

It made him frown a little, wondering what it was about, because the way Renji had acted last night, holding him until he fell asleep, he would have figured he wouldn’t dash off like that, especially not after what they’d just done — [but there had to be a good reason.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CWCleB4cdI0)  
  


   _‘Yeah. It’s that he got what he wanted, so now what’s the point.’_  


_‘Quit teasing, Zangetsu. He wouldn’t have woken me up to tell me he was going if he was trying to sneak off.’_ Shirosaki grumbled a bit more, cranky all around, probably more upset about being left alone in bed than Ichigo was.     _‘Don’t tell me you’re a cuddler.’_

_‘Oh please! Cuddling, my ass. You know I was with the Nue while you and Red were sucking face and playing tummy sticks.’_

Ichigo grit his teeth, biting back a comment about how Shirosaki sure didn’t complain last night and that he knew full well he liked Renji a lot more than he acted like — instead, he shot back, _‘Oh yeah? And what did you two do?’_

 _‘Talked!’_ Zangetsu snapped defensively. Ichigo smirked to himself a little. _‘And we played! Wipe that look off your face! So what if I like him?’_

 _‘Mhm. Did you like petting Zabimaru’s fur?’_  


_‘Will you shut up!’_  


Ichigo snorted, smiling for a moment. Truth be told, he felt pretty great after last night, as good as he’s felt since the whole arm-chopping business. It might've been nice to wake up together, but he's not upset. It's not like it's the only chance he'll get — it's still early days. He just wondered where Renji had gotten to; he was supposed to have come with him to the Fourth today.

In any case, Ichigo went in by himself and greeted Inoue when she came and hovered at his side to fix his arm up. Ichigo’s had his wounds rejected by her before of course, but watching his arm slowly reappear and feeling the sensation come back ever so slowly was a completely surreal experience. He stared in wonder as his fingertips at last appeared, holding them in front of his face and flexing his hand.

“There,” Inoue said breathily, fluttering about while he stretched and examined his arm, feeling it with his other hand. “There, good as new!”

“I don’t care about good as new, I want as good as _old,”_ Ichigo muttered, peering at it closer. There was his usual couple of freckles in the same place they were supposed to be, and the scar on the back of his knuckles from when he’d hurt himself with the can-opener as a kid.  


    _‘Damn,’_ he noted, amazed.   _‘Look at that. Perfect.’_       He expected Shirosaki to be impressed, to whistle or something, but he didn’t say a goddamn word. He seemed… _suspicious._  


“Thank you, Inoue,” he told his friend, cocking his head to the side when she squirmed and turned pink. It didn’t feel hot in here to him, but whatever.    “Really, thanks for coming, I thought I was gonna’ go crazy like that. I never know how many things I could only do two-handed.”

“I’m glad I could be useful to you, Kurosaki-kun,” she said, smiling and bouncing on her toes. “Are you sure everything’s as it should be?”

Ichigo flexed his hand again, really stoked to have it back. It looked like this whole crazy episode was over. Things could go back to normal, or close to it — and he and Renji… Well, they could get on with things.   


“It seems fine.”  


   _‘King, this shit_ ain’t _fine,’_  Shirosaki interjected suddenly.   


      _‘You’re paranoid.’_  


_‘I’m telling you, something’s weird,’_ he insisted, which gave Ichigo some pause, made him wonder why Shirosaki thought so. He’d been acting weird since the whole thing started, saying he felt weak.

They’d told him the whole reason he’d kept from going insane from the venom like the others was because of Shirosaki, but it hadn’t ever occurred to him before then that Shirosaki may have been fighting… _something_ , or keeping something at bay for him, without saying so.  It would be just like him to do something like that, and now that Ichigo thought of it, he's not sure he's gone into his inner world since before it all happened…    And now Zangetsu was saying that something still felt weird?   


Vaguely uneasy, Ichigo told him, _‘We’ll see what happens.’_  


    _‘You wanna’ risk it again? Tell me you’re joking!’_ He sounded exasperated, drawn to his limit.  


_‘Look, just leave it.’_  


_‘Why?! What are you afraid of?!’_  he burst, suddenly, but Ichigo just grit his teeth together.  
  


“Anyway,” Ichigo exhaled, ignoring Zangetsu’s shouting. He turned to Orihime and offered her a quirk of the lip.

“Even if it’s not perfect, it’s not like I’m gonna’ cut it off to try again,” he joked, and for a moment she just stared at him wide-eyed, as if she hadn’t thought he _could_  joke, and then she laughed, beaming cheek to cheek. Ichigo smiled a little bit too.

She took a few breaths, as if she were about to say something, hands clasped in front of her, and as Ichigo furrowed his brows confusedly and was about to tell her to say what was on her mind if something was bothering her, the both of them looked up suddenly.   What the hell was all the commotion outside?

He went out there to look around and found Renji in the hall, and it wasn’t hard to see that something was very wrong.

 

. . .

 

[Renji was a goddamn mess.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yEQ5LdPI4FQ) He’d gone and gotten himself thrown out of Yumichika’s hospital room for making too much of a scene, but who wouldn’t make a fucking scene. Ikkaku’d had the _gall_ to show his face here, to try and come in to see Yumichika, and Renji wasn’t having it.

However much the fires of rage had cooled in his rush to get Yumichika here to be taken care of, seeing Ikkaku’s face again, it all flooded back, a hot rush of betrayal and absolute _fury._  He didn’t know if he’d ever been this angry in his entire life, not even when Ichigo had ruined his life temporarily by taking Rukia’s powers just as he’d become a lieutenant, just as he’d _finally_ become something that made him good enough to be her brother again. He didn’t think he’d been as mad as this when Ichigo had taken Rukia’s powers and instead of finally having her back in his life, he’d had to come arrest her and put her on death row — and he’d been pretty goddamn pissed alright. He was so mad now, he couldn’t think straight, couldn’t physically control himself at all. His only thought was to _hurt_ him, hurt him and make him feel some of what Yumichika had felt, make him pay for what he’d done.

Zaraki-Taichou had clearly already been there, because Ikkaku looked horrible, bashed up and bloody, but Renji had no qualms with socking him right in the face, and he didn’t even feel bad about it. One of the people, perhaps the person he admired most of all, had done something so absolutely _loathsome,_  had hurt someone he cared about in such a disgusting way — it couldn’t be left with no retribution.   


   “How dare you, how dare you think you can come here after what you did?!”  


Yumichika was awake, but he hadn’t said much since they’d brought him in and tried to clean him up and make him comfortable, tried to take the pain away. Renji had sat with him for a little while, but there wasn’t much to be done. They've given him the healing kidou already, but his recovery would be slow, his body too weak and fatigued, having sustained too much damage. It's sick to look at. His proud, vain, lively senpai was so quiet, so desolate and hurt, his eyes empty and dull, and it was all Ikkaku’s fault.

Once they’d settled Yumichika down in a bed after seeing to his injuries, he thought it best not to leave him alone, so Renji had sat at his side, patting his bandaged hand, still tender and raw even after the healers had closed the wounds. He didn’t know what to say to him, didn’t have the words to soothe the pain.   He knew how it felt, to be used like that, and nothing ever had comforted him or healed that wound except time and love.   


 “Is there anything I can do? . . . I’ll do it, if I can.”  


Yumichika laid there for a few moments, eyes drifting about aimlessly, hooded and lifeless, and Renji’s shoulders sunk. “Would you…” He looked up, when Yumichika unexpectedly rasped, “Would you please take my mind off it.”

Renji blinked for a second or two, but knew what he was talking about better than anything. If the pain couldn’t be made to go away — and it couldn’t, not with it so fresh — then the only thing was to try not to think about it, to try and endure it by ignoring it as much as was possible. He then told him tentatively,  “Well… me an’ Ichigo are getting to know each other better…”

“Better? Goodness me,” Yumichika murmured. Renji gave a humorless snort, feeling nothing could lift his spirits at a time like this, when everything was falling to pieces around his ears. He’d always thought there were universal constants in the world, and over the last fifty or so years, he’d known one of them to be that Ikkaku and Yumichika would always be best friends. He’d admired and envied that, had held that up in his mind like something precious that he’d hoped to one day achieve himself, that kind of companionship and trust; he’d treasured it like a diamond, something beautiful, and now it lay strewn about and worthless, shards of broken glass as the illusion shattered.

“Yeah, finally got some guts. Took me forty years to learn to just tell people my feelings, but there you go. He was open to it, so I… y’know, I’m tryina’ win him over.”

“At long last.” Yumichika didn’t smile, but Renji knew that at any other time, he would have.

Renji wasn’t a stranger to keeping secrets, to putting a face on his self-hatred and his inferiority complex, he didn’t share it when he felt sad, or worthless, or worried. It’s not that he didn’t feel he could tell Yumichika his troubles, because Yumichika had been there for so long, to buck him up and encourage him when Ikkaku was pushing him really hard and he wasn’t getting the hang of things, or when he was missing Rukia — it’s just… he felt that if he said it out loud, he’d be admitting it was true, that he really was… _afraid._ That there was this black ugly thing inside of him that won’t go away no matter how stupid and selfish he knows it is.

Not to mention he didn’t feel it was right for him to complain, to wallow and feel sorry for himself when Yumichika was laid out in such a state.

“So why don’t you look happy about it, then?” Yumichika murmured, as though he barely had the energy to even make himself breathe, and Renji had sighed, looking away.

“Well…” He rubbed a hand to his head, and had then decided to just spit it out. “I dunno’... I’m starting to wonder whether it was a good idea. To tell him, I mean.”

“Why’s that? If he feels the same, then...” Yumichika tried to cough once, voice still incredibly raspy. Renji winced and looked away, not wanting Yumichika to see him staring at the patchy bruising, the blood under the skin all along his throat, where hands had… had _throttled_ him.

  
   “ _Because, Yumichika_ , I-!”   


A sudden rap of knuckles on the doorframe had drawn his attention away. “Lieutenant Abarai, it says here you have an appointment with Shinigami-Daikou Kurosaki Ichigo in room three — he’s being seen now…”

“Go,” Yumichika had whispered, and Renji had looked back at him uncertainly, setting his hand on the bed.

“I’ll be right back, I’ll tell him I-”

“Don’t,” he’d interrupted, cutting him off effectively, soft though his voice was, “Don’t tell him.”

“Yumichika… You can’t expect to tell _nobody_ . Zaraki-Taichou already… _saw_ ,” he’d spat, trying to contain his temper, not wanting to upset his friend when he’d already suffered enough.

“Even so. Not yet. I don’t want him to get into trouble.”

 _“Yumichika,”_ he’d pretty much shouted, then cut himself off with a growl, because it wasn’t the time to argue over this. “We’re not talking about this now.”

“I’m asking you, don’t say anything about it yet.”

He’d given a rough sigh then. “If you say so, then I won’t. I’ll be right back.”

“There’s no need.”

“You’ve always had my back, I’m not gonna’ leave you on your own,” Renji’d told him earnestly, almost offended he’d say so when they’d been friends and comrades this long. “I’ll just be a minute.”

“Thank you,” he’d heard after a few steps down the hall. He’d paused and sighed, dropping his head and biting his lip, [heading down to check on Ichigo.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hP85XdhhrSw)

He’d meant to go right in and tell him he was sorry he hadn’t come back that morning, but that if he knew why not, he’d forgive him — he meant to check how his arm was coming and tell him that he had to get back, it was urgent, but when he made it to Room Three, the door was ajar and he came to a pause, peering in at the sight of Ichigo and Orihime huddled together in the brightly lit room, orange heads glowing cheerily, auburn and blonde.

Renji took a step back, breath slow in his chest as he watched her hands hovering over Ichigo’s shoulder, watched Ichigo stare in amazement as his arm slowly materialized, brown eyes lit up excitedly. Orihime’s eyes glowed too, but she wasn’t focusing on her work — she was looking up at Ichigo’s face, crowding so close to his side.

He watched the two of them together for a few moments, listening to Orihime’s cheerful chatter and Ichigo’s mellow responses, so easy in each others company, and whatever had been bubbling in his gut surfaced at last. He was starting to have second thoughts about it all, because...

 

  _‘They look… so right.’_  
  


Ichigo might learn to love him return. He might spend centuries with him like he’d imagined they would. He might sweep him off his feet and get him to stay, but somehow it felt selfish, like he was meddling with  fate. How was he supposed to expect that this would work. If Ikkaku and Yumichika fell apart, what hope does he have? When he’s not a human, and Ichigo is, when he’s centuries old and Ichigo’s so young and free, and look at her, so lovely, standing there and full to _bursting,_ wanting him so bad.

 

             They really are perfect like that.

 

He could pursue things further, could love Ichigo until he loved him back just as much — but was it right, to keep him here?  . . .  


Renji let his hand drop from the door, and retreated, head hanging, dark and troubled thoughts clouding his mind as he plodded back to Yumichika’s room. When he did, that was when he’d showed up, standing there outside his door.

Seeing Ikkaku’s sorry face brought it all back, like the light to a fuse. Maybe he was already in the mood to pick a fight — whatever the case, the fires blazed hot and sudden.

Renji hates him, he hates him, he wants him to leave. He didn’t deserve to be around Yumichika, he didn’t deserve to stand there or live or _breathe._ He felt so… so _betrayed._   Someone he loved and admired and respected and _looked up to_ was capable of doing this kind of thing — he couldn’t cope with it, couldn’t forgive it. He and Yumichika had trusted Ikkaku, had thought of him as a man that was worth something, and he’d hurt him so badly. He felt absolutely betrayed.

Of course, he was a rank higher than Ikkaku officially, but Ikkaku was older than him, and everyone knew that he was Yumichika’s friend. Why shouldn’t he come here to see him. Beating him up right there in the hospital, murderous enough that he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t beat him half to death given the chance, Renji was taken out, appearing hysterical.

He _was_ goddamn hysterical, shouting up a fit outside in the lobby, where they’ve corralled him, as they were wont to do with former and current Eleventh Division men who got too rowdy. A few of the Fourth Division underlings’ faces were pale and shocked, and he knew it was because they’ve never seen Lieutenant Abarai, so kind and encouraging despite his dirty background, go completely feral as he was now.

How could he not be — they’ve left Yumichika alone with his rapist, and they wouldn’t listen to him. He only stopped when they threatened him with a court martial.

Ichigo was there then, seeming happy to see him, but soon giving him this look like he’d lost his everloving mind. He heaved, turning his frenzied glare at him, at _her_ — she quivered and quaked under his fury, and Renji grit his teeth and forced his hackles down.   “I should’ve known it was you making that racket, you loud-ass!”

It wasn’t a time for jokes, not after what’s happened. If there was any time for throwing a goddamn fit, it was when his friend’s attacker was running loose. “Wait, what’s the matter? What happened?” Ichigo wondered. “You…” He cleared his throat, giving a quick glance to Orihime and muttering, “You never came back this morning.”

Renji huffed through his nose, tossing his head.   “Something came up.”

“... Okay? Uh-” Ichigo beamed then, drawing Renji’s attention again when he pulled up his sleeve and flexed. “Check out the new arm!”

Renji showed some interest, but was still a bit glum and maybe even resentful. He’d never retaliate against her or anything, god no, she was just a kid like Ichigo, and it sure wasn’t a crime to love that boy. He didn’t blame her at all. He doesn’t even think he’s jealous, really. Just sad.

“You were right,” he said, because he was, when he’d voiced his doubts about how it could ever work. He just hadn’t wanted to listen. He’d hung on too tight because after losing so many things throughout his life and being ground into the dirt and having what he wanted _just_ out of reach for all of living memory, now that he finally had it, finally had a chance of happiness, it didn’t seem fair for him to lose it again, it seemed cruel for it to be taken away. He hadn’t wanted to accept it, but it seemed that was how things were, it seemed one way or another he was doomed to loneliness, to crawling on his belly, always the unwanted tramp.  


     _‘Don’t do this. Don’t be rash.’_  


_‘You think this is easy? You think this doesn’t hurt me? You know how much I’ve wanted him. You know how goddamn_ lonely — _how fucking lonely I’ve been. You know how happy I was when it seemed like we really had a chance together. But I’ve always had dreams that are too big, and it’ll only hurt worse later once it happens.’_  


_‘Once what happens? You don’t know anything will happen. Renji, don’t be a fool.’_  


_‘No. I’ve been a fool to think it would work, I’ve been selfish trying to_ make _it work, and it’s time to stop it now.’_  


_‘You’re frightened. You’re afraid of being hurt again.’_  


_‘Yes. I am,’_ Renji admitted harshly.     _‘But then, I’ve always been a dog to my bones. Too scared to jump, too scared to bite, cowering on the ground under the shadow of the moon. It's better if I just make peace with it.'_  


“Huh?” Ichigo flashed his teeth, half-smiling, and suddenly Renji didn’t think he could bear it, the prospect of another forty years of heartache, of regret. “Wish I had that recorded! What am I right about?”  


“When you said that Ikkaku fought that guy. He did.” He turned and stormed out.   


    “Huh?  Wait, he did what?!”  


. . .

  


Maybe it was still the shock or maybe he felt that he deserved it, but when Renji seized him, he’d let him hit him, just taking the blows.

“You can’t let him in there! He’s the reason Yumichika’s like that!” The words rang in his head over and over after Renji was dragged away. He stood there in the doorway for a time and swallowed, peeking inside. Yumichika was so weak-looking, so pale. He couldn’t sit by himself, had to be propped up.

He took a few steps into the room, coming to his bedside, and when Yumichika opened his eyes, Ikkaku tried to speak to him — but at the sight of his face, Yumichika seemed seized with energy, and in a burst, he smacked him.  


Just like that, his hand fell lifelessly from Ikkaku’s face, blood surging through the bandage.  


Ikkaku’s head dropped and he pressed his lips together, cheek stinging. He sunk to the floor there at Yumichika’s bedside, unable to bear leaving. Yumichika wouldn’t speak to him and the healers just stepped around him, letting him be.

Ikkaku just knelt there and murmured, “I’m sorry,” but the apology came out dull, because it didn’t feel like enough. How could it be.

He’d tried to rape Kotetsu. He’d thought about raping and maiming and killing his friends. He’d fantasized about it and gotten off to it. He’d hunted down helpless strangers to try and satisfy his bloodlust. He’d raped Yumichika, and the whole time he’d had no remorse, even when he’d come back to himself every once in awhile. He’d known something was wrong but never once had he told anyone or chained himself up so that he couldn’t harm others.

He’d thought he’d changed, but he was still hurting others with his stubbornness and pride. He was a monster.

Yumichika at last told a nurse that he didn’t want any visitors. He didn’t even acknowledge Ikkaku, didn’t want to see him, but who would blame him. Ikkaku was sent back out and wasn’t let back in, so he just kind of drifted out into the lobby.

“Ikkaku!”   He looked up, and saw Iba, which was just another wrench in his gut. If only he’d listened to him, if only he’d learned.

He stood there and stared off, despondent, as Iba tried to have a conversation with him. Apparently Orihime-chan was here and had just fixed Iba’s hand — he’d lost it from a needle.  


_‘What?’_  


“What?” Ikkaku demanded, looking up in disbelief, heart pounding harder and harder as he heard about the power of a mysterious Arrancar, about Ichigo losing his arm after a nearly tragic accident, about that guy killing his comrade and committing suicide afterwards out of guilt.

Ikkaku was horrified, standing there absolutely stunned, because everything was coming together in the worst way. It all made sense… That must be what had happened to him too — he’d been hit by one of the needles.

What he didn’t understand was that if he’d been poisoned the same as the rest, how had he been let to run free for weeks on end? Why hadn’t he just tried to kill Yumichika from the start like the others — why had he gone so far?     Why had he raped him?...

“Yeah, I’m only glad I reported it in time,” Iba told him, “and now I’m fixed, ship-shape again! Who knows what might have-”

That’s when Ikkaku stumbled away, a hand at his mouth, because he can’t listen to the rest. The walk back home was a blur. He cleaned up the bedroom and sat down on the floor.  


He held Houzukimaru, pressing his forehead to the handguard, just _aching_ everywhere.

   “Why… why didn’t you help me,” he whispered, voice small and uncertain.  


He knew it wasn’t the time to feel betrayed, but he did. How could Houzukimaru have left him on his own like that? He was the one who was always supposed to be there, to help him along, to encourage him through the hard times...  


       “Houzukimaru, please answer me, I don’t know what to do.”  He screwed his eyes shut, corners of his mouth pulling down as his throat tightened up. “God, why didn’t you stop me?...”

He opened his eyes then, remembering the dragon’s roaring in that. . . _horrible_ moment when he’d regained his senses.         


     “You did stop me… You did, didn’t you,” he murmured sadly, placing the sword across his knees, running a hand along it. “That was you.”      He sighed, hanging his head. “Rest now.”

He tried to meditate, sitting there so long that he fell into a stupor. He couldn’t quite reach his inner world… He felt… _unwelcome._

He could hear Houzukimaru now though, [ he could feel him a little. ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VRpUG7ZsZQw) The dragon sounded so tired, and so… so disappointed — so much that Ikkaku felt he might weep.  
  


  _‘... Ikkaku.’_         


_‘You,’_ he called, overcome with sadness at finally hearing his voice again. He was still there.    _‘... Why didn’t you answer?’_ Wringing his hands, he wrenched out, _‘I called so many times. I_ needed _you!’_

   Taking a breath, he shouted into the void between them, filling it with the pain of his rage and sorrow,   _‘Where were you?!’_  


      _‘You’ve put your hands on the innocent.’_  


_‘I… I did? . . .’_    He looked down at his own hands. There was still blood under the short nails, the stains having gone into his skin and his cuticles and his nail bed.     _‘I did.’_

 _‘Using our power to harm innocents is shameful. This is not why I lent you my strength,’_ he told him, voice so far away and weak.    _‘How could you?’_   Ikkaku cringed away at that, placing his palms to his eyes, his heart heavy as a stone with guilt.   

    _‘You’ve used the power I’ve lent you to bring_ shame _upon us.’_ Houzukimaru sounded quite as betrayed as he felt, but subdued about it, as if saddened and surprised that he could sink so low.   


    _‘And you hurt the one I love,’_ he whispered. _‘How could you, Ikkaku?’_  


_‘I didn’t mean to,’_ he tried, _‘I… I just lost it.’_ Voice cracking on its way out, he hung his head in shame, digging the pads of his fingers into his eyes, wiping them. _‘I wasn’t strong enough.’_  


_‘Once again you are not at peace, Ikkaku. You should be ashamed of yourself.’_  


_‘What am I supposed to do now. I can’t reconcile this. I can’t.’_  


_‘You can, or you’ll become what you hate most.’_  


_‘It won’t change what’s happened.’_  


_‘You’ll never grow stronger if you can’t even confront yourself.’_  


He lifted his head, eyes wide and pleading.   _‘I don’t know what to do,’_ he whispered brokenly. _‘Help me, I don’t know what to do.’_  
  


_‘Will you hurt the undeserving again?’  
_

   _‘No.’_  


_‘Will you?’_

_‘I said no.’  
_

_‘Will you?’  
_

_‘No!’_ he shouts.   _‘Never!’_

  


. . .

  


Renji came back to visit Yumichika in the hospital the following day. He paced, and was spitting mad, red with rage, because Yumichika had decided he was ready to talk about it apparently, and Renji didn’t like what he was hearing, not at all.

Maybe it wasn’t right for him to say how a victim should react, maybe it wasn’t right for him to be so hurt and upset when the whole thing wasn’t even about him, but Renji was mad, and didn’t want to hear a single word that put Ikkaku in a better light. He’s not ready to forgive, not by half.

“I don’t think he meant it, I really don’t,” Yumichika said, “In fact, you _know_ he didn’t.” Renji hissed through his teeth, pacing back and forth like a caged tiger. “It’s the same as the other cases, isn’t it. He didn’t know what he was doing.”

Renji turned on him then, because he knows Yumichika. He knows he would never want to think badly of Ikkaku or blame him, not really, not for anything serious — but he had to accept the truth. “Nobody else… _tortured_ someone,” he grit out, trying his best not to shout. It wouldn’t be right to shout at him now. “Nobody else raped anyone.”

“That’ll only make it harder for him then.”

“Why are you thinking about _his_ feelings?!” Renji wailed incredulously.

“You know he didn’t mean it,” Yumichika said, so calm about it that Renji growled aloud, irritated, because he didn’t want to accept that.

“Then he should’ve been stronger,” he denied. “Whether he meant to or not, I won’t forgive him.”

“He won’t forgive himself either,” Yumichika murmured. “Please don’t let him do anything drastic.”

He turned and gave Yumichika a hard look, narrowing his eyes at Yumichika’s mild frown. “If you think I’m going anywhere near him without ripping him a new one-”

“Please,” he repeated. Renji shook his head, staring him down steadily.

“Don’t ask me to do this,” he told him, firm in his refusal.

“You have to look after him for me.”

  
     “I’m sorry, but no.”  


[ He’d gone after that ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-JJAQWgiauc) , walking on his own for some time, brooding. He and Ichigo hadn’t talked much yesterday, as obviously he hadn’t been in much of a mood for it, too worked up into a fit over Yumichika’s injuries and Ikkaku’s  _betrayal._  There was also the fact that he was still down about that other business to do with Orihime. He didn’t feel up to talking, or for seeing him at all, actually. Whenever he did, all he could do was grind his teeth and gaze at him sadly.  


When they at last ran into each other later in the evening, Ichigo called out to him, “There you are.”

Renji lifted his head, turning to look at him, stopping in the middle of the street so Ichigo could approach.

“You’re avoiding me,” Ichigo accused as he walked up to him, not bothering with a greeting. “Don’t think I don’t know why.”

“What?” Renji muttered, frowning, creased brow creasing further in confusion and discontent.

“After what Ikkaku… _did,"_  Ichigo said under his breath, averting his eyes for a second. Renji clenched his jaw; he wondered who’d told him. He wondered how many people knew. “...” He sighed, grimacing. “Look, I know you’re worried, alright? I’ve seen you giving me looks.”

It clicked after a second, that Ichigo was saying he must be worried that he was going to snap like Ikkaku did. Ichigo didn’t realize what had gotten him down, he didn’t know he was having doubts that they ought to be together, didn’t know _why._     “Hey, it’s not what you think.”

“No, it’s okay,” Ichigo assured. “I understand. We didn’t expect it to turn out this way.”

Renji was already stressed to sobs but that really almost put him over the edge. He can hear where this is going and this is the last thing he needs right now. “I’m telling you, _you’ve got it wrong,”_ he snapped, voice nearly breaking in the middle.   


   _‘Zabimaru… If he’s going to say what I think he is, I’m really gonna’ lose it… I don’t think I can take any more. My heart… can’t take any more.’_

_‘Patience. Strength.’_

_‘He’s gonna’ go. He’s gonna’ say he has to go away because I’m the one most in danger from him, if it’s true. Because the blood fever drives the heart to destroy the things it loves.    He’s going to pull away.’  
_

_‘Peace, little one.’_  


_‘I don’t want to be alone. I can’t be left alone again. Please not again.’_

_‘Renji, peace.’  
_

_‘I’m telling you, I can’t take any more.’_  
  


   Ichigo looked him in the eye and said lowly, “I’m saying this to you because I know I can trust you to take me down, when it comes to it. Now or in the future. I know I can.”

Renji grit his teeth together hard, letting a slow breath fill his chest and then slowly seep out his nose, because it was worse than he’d thought it would be. “You overestimate me,” he said, when he was sure his voice would be steady and not quake with rage.   “Once, I helped to get Rukia locked up and killed, but I’m not that man anymore. I can’t be that person again,” he stressed. “Because of _you._  Why are you doing this to me now, huh? Don’t do this to me.” He shook his head, taking a step back. “Don’t ask me to do this.”

“If it comes to-”

“I _won’t._ Do you hear me, I won’t do it! _”_

“- drastic times, don’t let me hurt anyone,” Ichigo asked, voice raising for a moment to cover his. “Don’t let me hurt _you._ Do whatever it takes.” Golden brown eyes glowing sadly but with a spark of determination, Ichigo told him, “Even if it means that this has to end.”

And even though he’d been wrestling with the same question himself, even though he’d been telling himself that he ought to let it happen if Ichigo was to go back home, if Ichigo was to end up with her, if that’s how the story was going to play out, then he should _let it —_  the idea that it might really happen was a sharp and sudden pain in his heart.

“Ichigo, I can’t kill you,” he huffed on a laugh, a pitiful angry one as he looked about, unable to stand still. “That’s mental. That’s goddamn _bullshit,_  okay?”

“Maybe not kill me, but I know you’ll do what you have to do. I know I can count on you to do this for me,” Ichigo said, so calm about it, so resigned that that’s when Renji knew there was no reasoning with him, not now when he was so worked up, too worked up to convince that stubborn kid otherwise.

“I can’t,” he refused, shaking his head, “I just can’t.”

        _‘I’m not strong enough,’_ he wanted to tell him. _‘I love you too much and I’m not strong enough to lose you. I thought I could let go of you, but I can't.’_ He grit his teeth and glared at Ichigo.     


_‘You’re the hero and I’ve never been as strong as you. I’m not the hero, I don’t save the day and I don’t get the guy. All I do is crawl after you and whine in your shadow.   That’s what villains do. They’re cowards to their bones.’_

  
    “No. I can’t,” he repeated.  


“Then I have to go away.”  


He said it so naturally on his next breath that it took Renji a moment to realize what he’d said, to process that Ichigo had turned on his heel, head lowered — _he’s pulling away —_ and Renji’s heart froze, and panic set in, panic that was soon followed by hurt and rage.  


“What are you doing?! You’re gonna’ fucking leave?!” he howled, “Just like that, you’re gonna’ walk away?!”  


He saw Ichigo set his jaw, saw his shoulders sharpen and tense, and he slowly turned back towards him, chin stuck out defiantly. “Look, I’m sorry you’re upset, it’s not how I wanted things to go either. I told you that.”

“You didn’t do this when you had a Hollow inside you that could’ve taken over your body at any moment! Even when your spirit pressure became enough to destroy the fabric between worlds, you didn’t fucking do this!”

“Don’t pull that card! I was fifteen, Renji! _Fifteen_ with a tremendous amount of pressure put on me if I’d failed! I couldn't afford to have doubts or to get scared! Every time I did, one of you would beat me up!” he accused. “I couldn’t see past my goal, but now things are different!”

“Why?!” he shouted. _“Why?!_ This entire time when you didn’t have your arm, we didn’t know if you were going to go insane anyways, but you didn’t pull away, so why is it different now?! What the _fuck_ are you doing this for now!” Renji hollered, baring his teeth and getting in Ichigo’s face, taking a sick satisfaction in seeing him get mad too. “It was supposed to go back to normal between us, once you got your arm back! It was supposed to be okay!”

“Stop it!”

“Well _go then!”_ he shouted, and immediately the argument became about something else, what it had _always_ been about in the end.   “I always knew you would anyway!”

“Why are you being like this?!” Ichigo called back, wounded and incredulous, and his confusion just made Renji madder, because he still didn’t understand, still was oblivious to the hurt and loneliness trapped inside him. None of that touched Ichigo, none of it reached him. Renji was alone in this moment — he's always suffered alone.

“You knew from the start that I would go back! I never planned to stay here, you know that! That’s how it’s always been!”

“No it hasn’t! Back after everything, you came by a lot, but now you act like it hardly matters to you! Like it was all a dream or something and that you can just forget about it and go back to real life! You hardly ever visit anymore!”

“Renji, the only reason I ever came here in the first place was to save Rukia and then to help defeat Aizen! I wanted to go back home at the end of it! That never left my mind! Once everyone I loved was safe, I wanted to go back to high school and my friends! That _is_ my real life! It's always been that way!”

“But you always came back! You always visited! You're talking now like it's the end and that you won't come back, _fuck you!”_ Renji doesn’t care that he’s completely lost his marbles and is just standing there shouting nonsense at him in the open street. He hurt so much that he doesn’t care about anything.

“Why are you taking this so hard?! Karakura is where I belong, it’s my home! I thought you knew that!”

“What about me?! Didn’t you ever think you belonged with _me?!”_ he shouted desperately, baring his teeth, and he knew he must be too far gone then, because he never would have said something so childish and selfish otherwise, something so openly _jealous._      “Were you ever going to take this as seriously as I was? I thought we had an understanding! Or is there something better waiting for you back _there?!_ ”

 _“Stop!_ You said yourself that we'll see each other again, once I die! I'll get to spend a long time here down the road! But my time as a human is short, Renji, it's all I know! You act like it’s a real option for me to just give that all up and stay here for good like I’m already dead! You're asking me something I can't give you, I want to live!”

“So you were gonna’ leave all along then?! Whether or not this shit had happened to your arm? So why the fuck are you telling me I have to kill you or watch you go?!”

“This was always how it was going to be — you knew that from the start,” Ichigo grit out, sounding exhausted, so tired that he seemed on the verge of giving up with trying to talk to him.   “Don’t act like you didn’t, because I _know_ you did. I’m a human boy. What did you expect.”  


       And in that moment, Renji hated him. He really did. Because all that’s left inside him now is bitterness and regret — and pain, so much pain.  


“Fuck you, _fuck you, fuck you!”_ he screamed. _“Telling me to kill you and then bailing! Fuck you for doing this!”_

“Stop Renji, I mean it!”

 _“You’re gonna’ leave just like I fucking thought you would! I shouldn’t have bothered telling you how I felt! It didn’t mean a goddamn thing to you anyway!”_  


Pure rage crosses Ichigo’s face, and he coiled his arm back — for a moment, all Renji thought was, _‘That’s right, hit me,’_ and after Ichigo punched him, fist driving into him _hard, so hard_ that it socked the breath out of him, he felt a kind of release that it had gone this far, that if it had to come crashing down, it came down noisily, violently, putting up a fight as it fell. It made it feel like it had actually mattered.  


When Ichigo yelled and struck him, Zabimaru hooted in pain, but after that, it was quiet.  


Everything seemed to stand still as Renji gripped Ichigo’s wrist. All of it was static, buzzing about him, his body stiff with shock. He looked down, and saw that Ichigo’s arm had gone through his gut, and blood was sputtering between them like yolk gushes from a broken shell.

The part of Ichigo’s arm that stuck out of him was black, unyielding inky black. He didn’t know how long went by before he tried to breathe, a second, maybe two — he just stood there and stared at the place where they connected, at the blood gathering on the ground.  


_“Ahhhgh,”_ he spits, foaming at the mouth.   


His knees went limp, and blackness started fuzzing at his vision as he looked back up into Ichigo’s horrified face.


	16. Chapter 16

 

_‘It… didn’t work?’_

  


[ Ichigo stood there](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wZujJ77VeA4) in a sort of numb surprise, and all he knew for a few moments was how warm it was against his hand, how warm and _alive_ it was inside. He blinked, frozen in disbelief as his arm, jet black, made an unforgiving fist inside Renji’s belly, taking an indiscriminate handful of his organs and ripping them out viciously, spattering blood across the pavement between them, across his own face.

He stared in horror, and then let out a harsh and sudden _scream_ as Renji stumbled back, holding the empty hole in his gut, pale-faced and speechless, and then fell to the ground. He scrambled after him, his bloody hands instinctively meeting Renji’s torso, one pressing over the wound as much as he could without sinking it inside again, the other still scrabbling and tearing at his flesh, ripping deep gouges into him.

“No!” he screamed, _“No! Stop!”_

This can’t happen. He hadn’t wanted this to happen. Renji was supposed to be safe from this ever happening again, and look what he’s done. He’s dying. He’s fucking dying. _This can’t happen. Please no._

Renji lay there, rolling in his own blood as it pooled beneath him, gushed out, bubbled from his lips and made him wheeze. It would only be a few minutes before his body shut down, once it realized too many of its insides were gone, taken out by a ferocious monster. He lay there dying, but he seemed oddly calm, his lips parted silently, breath rasping weakly. His pained lidded eyes focused on Ichigo as he raised a trembling hand, completely red and sticky with blood, reaching out to his chest. He didn’t push him away. Instead he held on, pressing his palm there.

  
       _“_ _Heart?"_  Ichigo croaked, and his muscles slackened, his eyes wet.   
  


Given but a moment’s reprieve, Ichigo’s arm clenched up again and ripped at Renji’s chest, prying at his ribs, digging for the heart. “No!” he begged as Renji let out a raspy breath, but then lay there motionless, his eyes glazing over as viscera burst and his bones cracked, _“No, no, no,_ Renji, oh god, _Renji, no…”_  


 So many times he’d been there just in time to stop the bad guy from hurting the ones he loved, but in the end, who was there to stop _him?_  
  


 _‘No one.    I’m alone.’_  


  He hung his head. He's killed him. All Renji's ever done was stand at his side and love him so fiercely and with such loyalty that it had made Ichigo believe in himself, made him believe he was good enough, that he deserved to accept that love — all Renji's ever done is love him and he's fucking killed him.  
  


     “Renji… I’m sorry,” he sobbed, shoulders shaking pitifully.  
  


His hand slowly made a fist, and he can feel it, sputtering and fighting weakly against his palm, his fingertips, a muscle forcing blood through a body that had sprung a massive leak and drained onto the open street. Ichigo wept bitterly, attempting rather pathetically to tug backwards, to pull himself away, but when he did, his hand only gripped on, only dragged Renji with him, smeared blood behind them in a thick trail.

His hand closed on the still beating heart, feeling it pulsate within his grip, and as it squeezed, tight enough to burst it, Ichigo screwed his eyes shut, because he doesn’t want to see this part, [ he can’t watch. ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rr3ex7qs0rA)  
  


 

     _‘No one, huh?’_

  


Suddenly, his shoulder and neck tense again, and his whole body writhes, eyes rolling back and bleeding black and gold. _“Don’t touch him!”_ Shirosaki screams with his lungs, white skin flushing against the shadow creeping up his arm. 

_“Get out!”_ he raged, _“No vacancy, you fucker! You motherfucker! Get the fuck out! Don't you touch him!”_  
  


      Having been forced inside, Ichigo picked up his wet head, wiping his eyes and trying to catch his breath, only to immediately shoot up and bolt to avoid being crushed beneath falling debris. He frantically ran and searched for cover, staring out in horror at the creeping black mass that has crawled up the sides of the buildings, the dark sky — everything was crumbling, great pieces of rubble shooting about as the very earth shook.  
  


   When did this get here?. . . Has it been like this the whole time?  
  


He didn’t know when he screwed his eyes shut or put his hands over his ears, but after a few moments, he lifted one in confusion, finding that everything was quiet again, even Shirosaki’s furious roars.

 

        _'Shiro...?'_

 

He peeked an eye open and gasped, pressing his hands onto Renji again, this time stemming the blood while he waited for help to get there. He’d sent a Hell Butterfly to Rukia, she being the first person he’d thought to get in his panic.

   _‘Zangetsu! . . . Zangetsu, are you there?!’_ he called anxiously, shaking all over and heaving for breath as he pressed his hands down. It's not working. He keeps bleeding through his cupped hands, the blood oozing out between his fingers.   _‘What was that?’_  
  


_‘Just evicting our unwanted guest.’_ He sounded so weak, so much so that it made Ichigo even more worried.  
  


      _‘Are you okay?! Are you gonna’ be okay?!’_  


_‘I’ll make it. Worry about Red.’_   
  


  He stared from his hands to Renji’s pale limp face. Ichigo’s seen him beat up, but now he looks like a halloween pumpkin with his guts ripped out, some over here, some over there— And _blood_ — the two of them are practically swimming it, so much has burst out, leaving his skin cold and grey.

 _‘I think he’s dead. Zangetsu, is he dead?'_   Renji's not breathing. He's lost too much blood. Is he already gone? All Ichigo's efforts, holding onto him, pressing his hands to the huge hole in his gut, is he wasting his efforts on a corpse?   _'_ _He can’t be dead, please no, was I too late?’  
_

 _‘Snap out of it and make him_ not _dead. I just busted my ass throwing that creep out of here. Don’t let it be a waste.’_  
  


Breath quick with fear, Ichigo looked over Renji frantically. His compressions weren’t doing anything at all. It's all he can do not to give up and start shaking him, to just grab him in his arms and  _scream_ , scream and cry, because he's gone, he's lost him— He has to hurry, help's not coming fast enough, every second counts,  _he's dying, he's dying,_ Ichigo doesn't know what to do— _‘He’s not moving! Shiro, he’s not moving at all. He won’t breathe, what do I do?!’  
_

 _‘King, I… I can’t…’_ Shirosaki rasped, exhausted. _‘I have to rest. It’s up to you now.’_ Ichigo swallowed and set his jaw, glaring at Renji, splayed out like an animal carcass, utterly lifeless.  
  


        _'_ _You’re the hero, right, so save him,’_ Shirosaki breathed, and then he was quiet.      

 

   “Don’t worry!” Ichigo said through gritted teeth, “I won’t let him die! I won’t!”

  


. . .

  


A day or two passes before Yumichika comes home.  
  


He wouldn’t speak to Ikkaku or even hardly acknowledge that he was there at all other than stiffening up if he came anywhere near him. Ikkaku’s fully aware that if Renji had known that Yumichika had been released from the hospital for home rest, he never would’ve let Yumichika go back home alone. He would’ve made him stay over with him and told Ikkaku to keep the fuck away, and he’s sure once Renji finds out, he’ll be furious.

He’s pretty sure the only reason he hadn’t been thrown in jail was that the captain was letting Yumichika handle the situation as he wished, and Yumichika hasn’t reported him himself. It's not like no one else knows, so it was only a matter of time. Ikkaku was almost positive that eventually Renji would do it on his own and he’d be put in the Maggot’s Nest for the rest of his days.

Ikkaku tried to give Yumichika his space, but he worried about him. He couldn’t stand up for very long; even the walk back to the barracks had been taxing. He just sat in the front room at the kotatsu, a blanket around his shoulders, and sipped his tea. It was almost like old times other than that Yumichika acted as though he were all alone, tense and silent.

It broke his heart to see him like that, so weak and sick, so broken down. Ikkaku was afraid to even go near him — he doesn’t want to hurt him again — but he hated to be away. He tried to take care of him, tried to show he was sorry, he brought Yumichika food and tried to speak to him, but Yumichika wouldn’t touch anything he gave him, would not answer him other than to turn his head away.

Ikkaku could bear the guilt for all of a day before it became too much. All this time he hasn’t grieved or mourned what had transpired, and that night, seeing Yumichika sitting there looking like a ghost, he just couldn’t hold the floodgates shut.  
  


     _‘You’ve hurt the one I love,’_ Houzukimaru had said. He was right. He’d hurt the one he loves too. And nothing he can do can take that back.    
  


“Sorry,” he croaked, and there’s a sudden rush in his throat and his face. He brought a hand up to his mouth, because he was trying to say sorry and he didn’t want to be crying, he was trying to fucking apologize. “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” he said, eyes welling up, his throat hurting as he grit his teeth, but the tears dripped and dripped, because something was broken inside him. He’d broken something. He’d hurt something precious to him and he couldn’t ever fix it as long as he lived.

Gripping the fabric of his hakama, just above his knees, Ikkaku hung his head and stared down at his lap, at the wet spots hitting his legs as his sorrow leaked out.

He screwed his eyes shut when he felt a light touch to the back of his hand, as Yumichika patted him a little. He’d always been like that, so forgiving of him, of any stupid thing he’d done, no matter how he’d hurt him. Ikkaku drew his hand back, slowly, minute efforts to pull away as he brought his other arm up to hide his face, because Yumichika just feels sorry for him, just feels alarmed at seeing him weep, because he doesn’t think he ever has in all the years they’ve known each other, and it’s not fair for him to do it now. It's not fair to manipulate Yumichika like that.

He dug his eyes into his elbow and screwed his mouth into a grimace to keep his lips from quivering, but Yumichika just placed his hand onto his again, patting it comfortingly, and something bursts.

 _“I’m sorry!”_ he howled, hand clenched in a fist on his thigh and his palm pressed to his eyes. “I never meant to do this,” he told him, the words cracking and watery and so pathetic that he hated himself. He shouldn’t be the one crying. He didn’t deserve to be the one crying - he wasn't the one who’d been hurt.

But it’s always been like that. The two of them together. Anything that bothered Yumichika was a bother to him too. And now he’s hurt him himself, so, so badly, and it felt like he was the one who’d been torn apart. Because Yumichika’s his best friend in all the world. He’s his best friend, and he loves him.   “I’m so sorry I did this. I’m sorry I hurt you.”   He growled in frustration, because the more he talked, the more he cried, the more it came through in his voice.

Yumichika spoke then, and the first thing he said to him since before it happened was, “It’s okay.”

He can’t handle it, and he knew he shouldn’t shout, shouldn’t get so upset in front of him, shouldn’t scare him, because he _sees_ the way he flinches when he does, but he just can’t take it. “It’s _not_ okay!” he snapped, a raging wet mess.

“It’s okay,” Yumichika repeated, his voice so gentle that it just made it worse. He screwed his eyes shut, clamping his hand over his eyes and gritting his teeth, because if he didn’t, he was going to scream. Fuck his crying, fuck these tears.

“You didn’t mean it,” Yumichika rasped. “I know you didn’t. We all heard about the Arrancar’s power. A few other subordinates had to get amputations because their arm or leg wouldn’t let them rest until they’d satisfied the urge to kill.”

“It isn’t as easy as that! It doesn’t mean I get a free pass — what I did was _fucked up!_ I should’ve been stronger!” he raged, “I should’ve had more willpower! I should’ve…” He took his hand away and stared Yumichika in both eyes, his face a disgusting wet mess. “What I’ve done to you, I can’t… I can’t take that back, because I wasn’t strong enough.”

“It’s okay. It’s fine. I’ll be fine.”

“How can you sit there and _say that?!”_

“Because you’re my best friend, and I love you,” Yumichika told him, and Ikkaku meant to let out a harsh laugh, but he honest-to-god _sobs_ instead.  “I know you didn’t mean it,” he insisted earnestly, placing a hand to his shoulder after a tense moment’s consideration. “I forgive you.”

He can’t take it, he really can’t. He let his head fall into his palm and sniffed hard. He can’t stop crying. Damn this, _damn this._   He scrubbed his eyes hard, sniffing again.

“I can’t believe I did that,” he grit out. “I remember all of it now.”

In the past day or so, he’s kept most of it at bay, other than the stark and painful memory of how he’d stabbed Yumichika to the floor and raped him. But he was finally telling someone about it now, out loud. He was finally _thinking_ about it.  

The _urge —_ the only thing he could think to call it — was completely gone, and has been since Houzukimaru expended all his strength to give him back his sanity again. It was gone now, but he remembered it, how powerful, how intense, how disgusting it had been, walking around with his body, talking with his mouth, thinking and feeling and _enjoying_ everything it- _he_ did.

“I remember thinking shit that never would’ve crossed my mind otherwise. So I should’ve known. I should’ve realized, but I didn’t even question it. I should’ve asked for help, because I knew I felt off, but I didn’t. I was too stubborn.”

“But it made you. You didn’t want-”

“No, I did. You don’t get it,” Ikkaku rasped, because what was the point in lying, in making it seem like he’d been a mere puppet, poor Ikkaku who hadn’t been aware of any of it the entire time, as if he’d been unwilling. Yumichika’s always wanted to think the best of him, has always thought of him as a good man, but he’s not; not really — and maybe that's why he says it, maybe he's trying to scare him, make him hate him, make him see what a monster he is.

“I _wanted_ to do those things. I wanted to _rape_ _,_ I wanted to… to do gross disgusting things to them.” He was choking up again, saying it out loud. “I wanted to hurt Kotetsu and Matsumoto and Nemu and- _Yachiru._ I wanted to rape her little body and tear her insides apart, she’s just a fucking kid, but it didn't even matter!” he burst. “Nothing mattered. Our friends… I wanted to kill them. Anyone who touched me, anyone I looked at, all the time… like a monster.”

Yumichika didn’t say anything, probably gone silent in horror. Ikkaku couldn’t bear to look at him, digging his hand into his eyes hard.

“I hurt you, and I… I enjoyed it,” he admitted, and he felt nauseated hearing it, in knowing that it was true. “I enjoyed hurting you and everyone else. I meant everything I did. So don’t you fucking understand, you shouldn’t forgive me. You should hate me.”  Yumichika was silent still, as Ikkaku pulled himself together, setting his jaw.

He took a couple breaths and then said, “But you don’t have to worry. I won’t do it again. I’ll kill myself before I let it happen again. I promise.”

He said it, but he knew it wasn’t true. It had been so unobtrusive the first time, that he knew he would never be able to stop himself in time. He would have to leave it to someone else then, to cut him down if he was to succumb to madness again.

If their last meeting was any indication, he doesn't think there'll be a problem leaving that up to Renji.


	17. Chapter 17

Time went on and everything was starting to return to a sense of normalcy, as much as was possible for it to do so.  
  


Ikkaku’s tried to mend his fences, even though he knows he doesn’t deserve forgiveness of any sort. He’d gone and apologized to Kotetsu. She’d felt so bad for him that she’d actually chased Iemura away when he’d started lurking about and hissing at him. Back at Division Eleven, things were going as they always did, other than the feeling of utter disgrace that followed him around day to day, heavy upon his shoulders. He was so ashamed, hung his head every time he passed by the captain — couldn’t even stand in his shadow without cringing.

Zaraki-Taichou hadn’t taken the incident any further, since apparently, Yumichika has insisted such. Ikkaku knows that the captain’s been told what had happened about the Arrancar, but he and Renji — and Ikkaku too for that matter — are of the same mind, that it didn’t much matter if he’d been made to do it; he should’ve been stronger. Because of that, the captain continued to give him the stink eye and punished him with so much work that it would have seemed unfair had Ikkaku not known he deserved every bit of it. The one thing he wasn't punished with was his usual duty of entertaining Yachiru when Zaraki-Taichou needed a break from her and sent her off. Ikkaku wasn't left alone with her, and wouldn't go near her on his own, wouldn't  _look_ at her. He can’t  — doesn’t trust himself to. He didn’t know if he’d ever be able to again.

He’d learned later that the night after his final attack on Yumichika, Renji had been hospitalized because of Ichigo, who’d apparently been going through the same loss of bodily control for some time — but whether through blessing or curse, Ichigo had stayed conscious and aware through all of it. 

Ikkaku had gone to see him, because he was still his little brother, but Renji didn’t want anything to do with him. Weak as he was, he was absolutely vicious. He didn’t care a thing that Ikkaku was possessed or out of his mind; he was still fucking awful to him, because, as he’d put it, “It was _Yumichika._  You hurt _Yumichika."_  Through gritted teeth, eyes wild with ferocious rage, he spat, “Not matter how far gone you were, you should’ve known somehow, what you were doing. You should’ve known to stop. You were supposed to know it was him, no matter what! But that’s exactly why you hurt him, isn’t it! _Because_ it was him!”

Ikkaku pressed his lips together, because he already felt quite guilty enough and didn’t need to be told things he already knew. Renji swiped for him, as if to grab him and beat him some more despite being on death’s door not long ago himself. He promptly regretted it when he pulled the stitches in his belly and turned pale in the face.  “No,” he wheezed, glaring at him through pained eyes, mouth twisted in a ghastly sneer. “No, I’ll never forgive you. Never,” he swore.

It hurt; it did, but Ikkaku didn’t let it rile him up, didn’t let himself get upset over it. His calm only seemed to infuriate Renji more. “I’m sorry,” he said, and Renji immediately snarled. “I’m doing what I can to fix what I did,” Ikkaku told him, even though Renji clearly doesn’t want to hear another goddamn word.

“You don’t deserve to go near him,” he bit out, looking pitiful that way, expression twisted in bitterness and anger despite lying there on his pillow sweating like a beast, feverish and weak. He had to say, he was impressed with the fight he put up, how much force he was able to put behind his fury despite, not more than a couple days ago, having had almost all of his guts ripped out for nearly ten minutes before help had come.

“You don’t deserve to look at him after what you did,” he breathed, too exhausted to speak much more, but he still spat each word out with such contempt that Ikkaku felt it like the edge of a knife. “You don’t deserve to live.”

Ikkaku didn’t disagree with him, but he felt that since the captain had refused to do it right then, the only other option was to cut his own stomach — and he thinks that it wasn’t fair, to end his suffering that way when he’d caused Yumichika so much pain. It wasn’t fair to escape that way, when he'd be left behind to struggle on alone; it was cowardly.   More than that… “He deserves me to say sorry though,” Ikkaku told him, keeping himself as steady as he could under the weight of his grief. 

Renji tossed his head away, a muscle clenching in his jaw. “So I’m trying. I really am,” Ikkaku said. “... I didn’t want to hurt him.”

“Well you did,” Renji snapped.

“I didn’t want to disappoint you either. And I know I have — but you’ve always been the better man.” It was silent between them for a few minutes.  
  


“Will you just leave,” Renji breathed at last, seeming drained by it all, saddened even.  
  


“... Has Ichigo visited?” Ikkaku wondered, “I just mean, when I came, I figured he’d be here already.”  
  


Renji wouldn’t say another word after that, turning his head away and closing his eyes, so Ikkaku got up and left him in peace.

 

. . .

 

    [Ichigo had visited.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qyypma2VqWE)  
  


He’d always thought that losing his mother young, being able to see spirits from birth, and all the adventures he’d had in the spirit world, the gruesome, ugly adventures, some that had even driven him to the brink of insanity — he’d always thought it had matured him beyond his years, that it had hardened him, but he’d come to a realization the second time he’d had to watch his hands almost kill Renji, and it was that he can’t do this again. Not ever again.

As he’d told Renji that night, when they’d argued, before — _before he’d hit him —_  Ichigo had never planned to stay. From the very start, a fifteen-year-old ryoka, it had never left his mind, the end goal, that day when he’d be able to go back home and grow up and — _go to_ _college, get a job, enjoy his twenties, do what he wanted to do with himself, dare to dream_ _—_ and he knew now that what he’d been doing, jumping back and forth, _visiting,_  trying to balance both lives, it was foolish. He had to commit, go back for good, because he can’t do it again. He didn’t want to see someone he cared about hurt ever again. Doesn’t he deserve that much? To have that peace of mind, at the end of it? After everything they've asked him to do, isn't he allowed to lay down that burden now that they've come to the end?

He’d gotten a reishi arm made for him in Division Twelve, which was a good enough imitation of his real arm — it looked the same all right, and worked the same, but it didn’t _feel_ like it should. Once the new arm was there to fill the empty space, he’d visited at Renji’s bedside, just once, after he’d been put back together.

He’d sat next to him, watched him sleep, and despite being resolved, knowing it was right that they say goodbye now, he somehow still felt regret in his heart — because this had been a dream too. _They_ had been a dream.

When he left, he didn’t go back, didn’t let himself turn around, because this was how it had to be. As it was he would have nightmares for weeks. It had really fucked him up — he doesn't think he's ever been this fucked up over anything, even laying under his mother's corpse might not have been this bad. He can still feel it sometimes, the sticky wetness on his hands, the hot wet pulse of Renji's organs, living flesh not meant to be touched from the inside, he can feel Renji's heart beating inside his grip, begging over and over each second, _I'm alive, still alive, stop, stop, stop, let go, go, go—_

      — _He loved me, and I killed him, all he did was love me —_ _I_ _hurt people, I let people down—failure, useless, I'm always too late, I hurt people, Mom, too late, I hurt the ones I love —_ and he wakes up with a gasp, he _chokes,_  night after night he grips his arm with his other hand, holding it tight, _just in case it—_       

He can't sleep without seeing it happen, his arm, buried up to the elbow, digging around in Renji's guts, he can't stop thinking about it, how he hadn't been able to stop himself, couldn't let go, and he can't forgive himself for that, he can't move past it, because at the end of the day, he couldn’t protect.

  
So that meant he had to go away, and protect the ones he cared about from himself.

 

    _‘King… I don’t think it’s right.’_

_  
'You shouldn’t be thinking anything. You should be resting.’_

__  
‘Not when you’re ‘bout ta’ break our heart. I get a say too. You’re gonna’ leave now, without saying goodbye?'  
  


_‘I already said goodbye.’_   
  


_‘You know what I mean. It’s gonna’ be hard on him, to wake up and hear you’ve already gone home.’  
  
_ _'It has to be this way.’_   
  


_‘I don’t see why. It’s not like the reishi arm’s going to attack anything. It's_ reishi _.’  
  
  
_ _'So what. I still can’t stay. It’s still not going to work. You heard what he said. He wasn’t ready. He said he knew things would be hard, with me being a human and him not, but he wasn’t ready. Not really. He wanted me to sacrifice everything. I can't do that. He wanted me to give up everything and stay here.’_  
  


_‘No, he didn’t. He just got scared. So did you. You’re not gonna’ hold that against him, are you?’_   
  


_‘Don't you get what this means? He still sees me as the same guy who came here five years ago. Like everyone else here, to him I’m the Shinigami-Daikou. He won’t accept that I’m a human boy. He might feel something for me, but he won’t accept me how I am.’_   
  


_‘King, I’m telling you, I’ve talked to Zabimaru, and he didn’t mean it.’_   
  


_‘Why’d he say it then? Why’d he have to do that to me? Shiro, it was never going to work.’_ He felt his throat tighten at the admission, eyes burning, because he hates this part, he hates how much this hurts. _‘In the end, we’re walking different paths. It’s too difficult.’_  
  


_‘He really loved you though. You could’ve talked it out. You know he would’ve worked for it. If you compromised, you know he would too.’_   
  


_‘Stop! You don’t know anything!’  
  
  
_ _‘King — I just don’t understand why you’re really doing this. I know you're scared, but what are you really scared of?’_   
  


_'You know already.'_   
  


_'Losing him, I know — but by killing him yourself? Or by watching him walk away. Because that's what it sounds like.'_   
  


"Stop," he growls aloud.

   
 _'It sounds like you didn't realize how much you cared until you were watching him bleed out in the street, and now that you do, you can't handle it. You're not scared of hurting him again, you're afraid of being hurt,'_   Shirosaki accused. 

      _'_ _You're scared to be that helpless. You're trying to close your heart back up. You're afraid that he won't accept you.'_  
  


 _‘Stop!'_  he screams, and Shirosaki shut up for a second as they stare at each other — and it hurts, because it's like looking into a mirror, seeing all the things he wants to pretend aren't there. Shiro's face is drawn tight with a quiet desperation, and even in his anguish as he pleads with him not to take Renji away from them, he's too hardened and resigned, too used to the rain — and Ichigo doesn't want to be like that, he doesn't want to be that person, too beaten down and pitiful to fall in love.

Eyes wide and watery, he withdraws in bitterness and anger a second later, gritting his teeth and turning away.     _'I_ _don’t want to talk about it. That’s why I have to go without seeing him. It’ll be easier this way.’_  
  


 _‘You’re acting like you’re going back because you’re tired of being the hero, but that’s exactly why you’re doing it. You're still trying to be a hero. You’re giving up things as some kind of noble sacrifice at expense to your own wellbeing_ ,  _b_ _ut King, we’re just kids — and we deserve love.’_  
  


Ichigo hung his head.  
  


_‘You do.  You don’t have to be afraid of it — to share that burden with somebody.’_   
  


_‘What burden.’_   
  


_‘A lonely heart.’_   
  


_‘ . . .’_   
  


_‘King.’_   
  


But Ichigo shut him out, left the rainy cityscape and closed himself off so he didn't have to listen, so he didn't have to feel like that anymore.

He’s handling it on his own — like he always has. That’s how things are.

 

. . .

  


Renji’s words had hurt him more than he’d let on, even more than the captain’s harsh treatment of him has. He’s let him down. He’d mentored that kid for forty years and he’d ruined all of that, betrayed his trust and respect.

But all that, he could bear. Yumichika was the one who broke his heart.

They were speaking again at least, and Ikkaku has mostly accepted that Yumichika forgave him — despite not forgiving himself — but the thing was, Yumichika was acting like nothing was wrong. He still obviously lived with pain and probably depression too, and was very jumpy, but he was still behaving as though everything was okay between them.  
  
Over time, Ikkaku saw how things have irreversibly changed. Yumichika talked with him like they used to, he was happy to see him and to be with him, et cetera — but there were new boundaries:

Do not startle Yumichika. Do not raise your voice. Do not close the door while you’re in the room alone with him, and do not get between him and the exit. Don’t get too close too fast, don't touch him, don’t make sudden movements — and on and on it went, each one a knife in his heart. He felt so far away.

At first, even after making up, neither of them much wanted to be alone together, because Ikkaku didn’t trust himself and Yumichika didn’t trust him either, but things were getting easier. Ikkaku slept in another room with a reiatsu bind on his arms, and Yumichika locked the bedroom door at night. Everything was fine, liveable, but it was different and awful.  
  


He didn’t want things to be this way. He knew he was forgiven, but it’s just… _not enough._  The distance between them was unbearable.  
 

He loves Yumichika. He’d hurt him. He could’ve killed him. He would’ve wasted a lifetime they could’ve had together — and so soon after they’d gotten so close, following the revelation about Yumichika’s sword. If this thing hadn’t happened, with what they were calling the _blood fever,_  who knows how things may have gone. He'd just started to figure out that thing Houzukimaru always said about the two of them, he'd just started to acknowledge that feeling within him and what it meant.  
  


But it’s all ruined now, because Ikkaku will never deserve to be Yumichika’s partner now, not after what he's done. He doesn’t deserve to want him, not ever again.

   But as he’d told Renji, he might not deserve forgiveness, but Yumichika deserved an apology — and so he treated Yumichika as nicely as he could.  
  


One night, once the wounds seem to have started closing — _slowly, slowly —_  Ikkaku brings home some flowers, special ones; beautiful and expensive white lilies. He put them in a vase on the table and fiddled with them until he was satisfied.

When Yumichika arrived home and saw, Ikkaku could tell immediately that the message had gotten across if Yumichika’s expression was anything to go by. He seemed surprised, but looked so touched too.

He’s quiet for some times, and eventually approached, reaching out a hand to brush a finger on the petals, pushing his face towards them to smell. He gazed at Ikkaku speechlessly until he breathed, “I didn’t know… You really feel like that?”

“A’ course I do,” Ikkaku said softly, because how could Yumichika not know that. Hadn’t he known that all along? He was sure that before this whole awful business, Yumichika must have known, must have been able to see how he’d gone soft on him, how he felt for him like nobody else. It hurt, to realize that Yumichika must have forgotten — _‘Because I hurt him_ _,’_ Ikkaku knew.

“Of course I do,” he repeated, smiling a little when Yumichika looked at his toes and played with his nails a little, and if things were different, if there wasn’t that boundary between them now, he would reach out and brush his hand through Yumichika’s hair, run his thumb along his cheek, because he’s so beautiful like that, lowering his eyes in rare shyness.

“I love ya’, don’t I? I told you I loved you, huh?” he murmured, coaxing Yumichika to meet his gaze. “Well this is how I mean it... Me an' you, together. Nothin' more right in the world.”

Yumichika was silent, lips parted in wonder, and then he was smiling, one of the first real ones since that horrible night. He smiled, eyes shining, and Ikkaku smiled back, but felt sick inside somehow. This was the closest they’ve been since it all happened, standing mere inches apart, gazing at each other, and the quiet between them should’ve meant peace, but it felt hollow and eerie.  
  


    It's too quiet.  
 

His fingertips tremble as he leaned in, slow about it, to give Yumichika time to pull away, to try and convince himself that he's in control, he can trust himself — Yumichika doesn't pull back, letting him close the distance, patiently waiting for a kiss. Ikkaku smiled a little and moved in, tilting his head to brush their lips together, but at the very last moment, Yumichika stiffened and flinched ever so slightly.

Ikkaku froze there, heart skipping a beat when he came to the crushing realization that even now, _Yumichika was afraid of him._ He drew back, watching as Yumichika swallowed and gave him an anxious look, as if thinking he’d disappointed or upset him.

He turned away and put a hand to the top of his head, a few unsteady breaths ripping through him. “You,” he heard himself say, “You’re scared,” he said, and the words came out so hollow.     _'Of me.'_

“I,” Yumichika tried, but fell short, a hand moving to his mouth, arms wrapping around himself in a loose hug.

Ikkaku wanted to say sorry, but at this point he’s apologized so much that the words seem meaningless. “How can I get your trust back?” he implored, eyes burning earnestly into Yumichika’s nervous purple gaze.

Yumichika took a breath, shoulders rising and falling, and as he took his hand away, he turned his face to the side. He looked embarrassed then at reacting the way he had, this strange look twisting his expression.  
  


“... What?” Ikkaku asked.  
  


Yumichika pressed his lips together, closing his eyes for a second, eyebrow twitching the way it used to do when he was irritated or tired. “I _would_ trust you, you see,” he said at last, bringing his fingers to his brow, pinching it. “Because I know that it wasn’t your fault, no matter what you say. You didn’t know what you were doing, and I understand that, I do. I know that if you’d had control of yourself that you would have sooner died.” He let a huff out through his nose, opening his eyes with a grimace.

“I’m not angry. I forgave you a long time ago, almost the second I saw your face,” he grit out. “You were horrified.” He shut his eyes again and swallowed, and Ikkaku stood there in silence, trying to make sense of the strange look on Yumichika’s face, the weird hitch in his voice.

“How could you have meant it? How could it have been your fault. I knew it from the beginning that it wasn’t you.”

He didn’t know why Yumichika was telling him this, and cautiously muttered, “I don’t agree with you, but… if that’s what you believe, then…”     _‘Why,’_ he wanted to ask, _‘why can’t you trust me again, if you forgive me?’_

He did say it then, when Yumichika didn’t say anything more, simply standing there with his jaw clenched and his hand rubbing his forehead almost viciously, eyes shut. “Then, if I have my mind back, why can’t you try to trust me again?” he asks, with as much sensitivity as he can.

When Yumichika at last answered him, his voice was breathy and hitched, and the weird expression suddenly made sense — like an electric shock he realized he’s been trying not to cry, not to break down in tears right there in front of him, and that really killed Ikkaku, because since it’s happened, Yumichika has not cried at all. In fact, he didn’t know the last time he’d seen Yumichika crying, _really_ crying.  
  


 _‘Oh shit,’_ he thought, blind with panic, because he'd really fucked up. _‘Oh shit.’_   He stood there frozen, mouth falling open as tears began to fall. Yumichika put a hand to his face and turned away, lips twisting and cheeks scrunching up around his eyes. Fuck, he was really crying.   
  


No, this isn’t right. Don’t cry, Yumichika. God, please don’t.  
  


The guilt in his stomach clenched to the point of pain, and seeing him crying like that, he almost got choked up himself, feeling a rush in his sinuses and face and throat, his nose starting to run.

Yumichika went on, and his voice is high and wrenched and watery and _awful,_  “I can’t, because…” He took a shuddery breath, sniffing, and choked out, “No matter how many times I tell myself that it's over, I can’t help but think that you’ll snap again. Because you never finished.”

“Finished what?” he breathed, so nervous, heart pounding so fast, because by all accounts, Yumichika was an inch from weeping.

“Raping me,” Yumichika clarified in a whisper, turning away to hide his face as he pressed the pads of his fingers on his cheeks, swiping under one eye and then the other as he pulled himself together.

They just stood there in silence, this fucking silence that just _hung_ there in the room, because Yumichika was right. The only person who’d gotten free of this urge in the end had succeeded in completing a murder, had ripped out a heart that loved them and held it. Everyone else who’d been struck with a dart had escaped, but only by eliminating the infected flesh, by physically _cutting it off._ Ichigo could never have his arm back, not the real one.

However, Ikkaku’s arm or leg hadn’t been hit and the dart hadn’t passed through. The needles was…  
  


      _...still inside him?  
_

  
Ikkaku looked down at his chest, rubbing at it. He pulled his collar aside and saw that a welt had appeared, right on his sternum. It must have been there before, but he can’t remember having seen it.

“Venom,” he said, voice dull, as the thought occurred for the first time. He doesn't know why it hadn't before, it seems obvious now. “It’s venom, right?” he prompted. “It’s a dart, right?”

“...” Yumichika looked at him, at first uncomprehendingly, but his expression changes sharply in realization.  
  


“Cut it out,” Ikkaku breathed.  
  


“. . .”  
  


“Cut it out of me, _please!”_ he urged. He wanted Yumichika to see that it wasn’t him who’d done it, that he never would’ve done something like that on his own. More than that, _he_ needed to see it. He had to prove to himself that he wasn’t a monster, that all those horrible things he’d done were because of this needle, this needle in his heart — he can’t live with it there.

Please, Yumichika had to take it out of him, Ikkaku couldn’t live like this, with this _fear_ shadowing him. He can’t live without being able to trust himself.

 

. . .

  


Yumichika didn’t know how long he looked at Ikkaku in tight-lipped silence.  
  


Things have been quiet between him and Ruri’iro as they each attempted to cope with their pain, and perhaps he’d thought that in that moment, Ruri’iro might finally snap out of it — if one of them was going to — might scorn him one last time for always crawling back to Ikkaku, to reaching his hand out only to be hurt by him over and over, but when Yumichika stood there and waited, reached inside and tried to feel for some sort of reaction, all that echoes back is the same grim silence.  
  


    _‘If you must,’_ Ruri’iro at last whispers, as fatigued as Yumichika’s ever heard him, but then, they say that the pride came before the fall, and after, nothing was left.     _‘Yumichika… Houzukimaru, he’s not well at all,’_ he said, even as he sounded as though he was seconds from fading away himself.   
  


_‘Hurry, would you please,’_ he urged, and that was all.  
  


   “Very well,” Yumichika agreed.

 

Together, the two of them tie Ikkaku to a support beam of the house and make sure he can’t reach anything or do much more than squirm. Kneeling at his side in silence, biting his lip, Yumichika clenched his hands on his legs to calm his nerves.

“Wait here,” he managed, as if Ikkaku had much other choice. He stood and gathered some things from the bathroom and the kitchen that he thought might help when he… did the deed. He’s not queasy at the idea of cutting into flesh, even if perhaps he should be, but for some reason, he feels more apprehensive than anything else.

When he came back, he found Ikkaku had let his head fall back against the wood, eyes shut, a muscle clenching in his jaw and throat straining. He moved a bit when Yumichika sat down at his side again, but didn’t open his eyes.

Hesitating for a moment, Yumichika reached out and opened the front of Ikkaku’s yukata wider, baring his chest. That bee sting from a couple weeks back was still there, a small raised bump, pink and flushed around the edge, red just in the center.

Ikkaku did open his eyes and tipped his chin down to watch when Yumichika wiped that patch of skin with rubbing alcohol. Frowning, he leaned forward to look at it closer and reached out a finger, prodding it, then squeezed at it carefully, to see if it might burst or leak.

“Cut it out. I can take it,” Ikkaku rasped, taking a few breaths, visibly steeling himself when Yumichika set his jaw and selected a metal tool, holding it aloft and hesitating there for several long seconds, the point resting on his chest. “It’s in there deep. Do you… You think you can do it?”  
  


“Hold still,” Yumichika breathed.  
  


He pressed the tip of the small knife in until it burst through the skin as it would through that of a fruit, blood immediately spilling out in thick dark drops, rolling down Ikkaku’s chest. Yumichika dug the blade in, gouging the flesh back, letting the blood run freely. Ikkaku stayed still when he cut him, clenching his jaw and letting out pained grunts as the blade twisted and sliced through his skin. He didn’t jerk about, but he did writhe and squirm minutely, agonized, breath straining through his nose as he ground his teeth together. Yumichika’s hands, slick with blood, remained steady, as did his voice when the blade met the tip of the needle. It really _was_ there...

“There it is, I see it,” Yumichika murmured, running a fingertip over the point, just barely protruding from Ikkaku’s raw and bloody chest.  Ikkaku let out a long pained groan, but seemed relieved.  
  


“Okay,” he managed to hiss between clenched teeth. “Okay, now just pull it out.”  
  


Yumichika tried with a tweezer, squeezing it hard on the end of the needle, attempting to draw it out, but it kept slipping off, the two pieces of metal sliding apart and not gripping. He tried again and again, but it was too slick with blood, too smooth and polished to stay in his grip. “It’s really stuck in there,” he muttered in dismay, taking the knife again and wiping Ikkaku’s front to try and stem the blood. “Just a little more…”

Ikkaku yelped then when Yumichika cut him, stifling it until it became a low moan once again. Sweat rolled down his face, tight and pale with suffering. Yumichika didn’t linger on it, because it was too important that he keep it together in this moment, that he not lose his resolve. He stayed numb and calm, cutting into Ikkaku’s living flesh like any other piece of meat.

He managed to slip the needle out about halfway, stubbornly stuck in Ikkaku’s breastbone. It must be quite long, because around two and a half inches are out, yet when he tries to rock it from side to side to wiggle it out further, [it doesn’t budge.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zrTT1C47WbQ)

He didn’t know how long the two of them sat there, trying — but eventually he realized that whatever poison was in the senbon, trying to take it out must have released more of it. Yumichika didn’t notice at first, but Ikkaku’s muscles were beginning to clench up, and not just in pain. Ikkaku’s writhing became more insistent, and he could hear the fabric binding him stretching and tearing, the threads splitting as he yanked at his bonds.

When he looked up to tell him to try to hold still please, it won’t be much longer now, he found Ikkaku’s eyes were open and glaring into his, face contorted into a ghastly enraged snarl. He didn’t look as though he were suffering anymore, despite having quite a chunk missing from the middle of his chest. He was thrashing in anger, and when he opened his mouth to speak, what came out was that horrible dark voice that Yumichika still had nightmares about, telling him how it was like to rape him, how much he enjoyed it, how much he would make him _hurt_ once he got free again.  
  


"Ikkaku," he says numbly.

 

"̸Don't̡ c͏all m̛e ̧t̵h҉at!" it spits. "I͜ h̴a͟te̛ ̢w҉he҉n ̴you͢ ̴do ̕t͡hat͡! Why̛ ͏do ͟yo͝u̵ ͝t̸hi͜nk I̢ ͞alw̨ay͜s͢ ̕c̵om̶e̛ o͠u̵t wḩe̕n ͘y̕ou ͜c̷all mȩ ̶t͡ha͘t stupi̕d fu̶c҉kįn͢g name!"  
  


He blinked, swallowing slowly as he braced a hand on Ikkaku's thrashing chest the gushing blood.  
  


"I͝'̡l̷l͠ tak̸e ͜your ͡h̵ear͏t̶,̧ I̶'̸ll ͏t͜a̷ke͝ ͝you͝r͘ heart ͞out!̷" he cursed, "̛̩̦̫̯̗̙J̸̦u̸s̮͈͈͎t ̪̪̱̭̘a͎͕͖̹͇̦ͅs̭̠͈͚ ͍̞̠̠̖̖s̝̫̯͙͎͝ͅo̶̲̘o̲͎̖͉͢ͅņ ͕̝̹͍̦a̪̲̣̜͍s̹ͅ ͓̥͚̫I̻̖͙͍̠̺ͅ ̘̖̣͙̲̩f͈̣̭̝͈͟i̢g̺̟̦̟̱͈̫u͔̳̳̹̯̱̮r͎̖̗̯̮͢ͅe̘͖̬̮̘̱̯ o̭̟̠u͓̙͉̮t͓ ̻̩͡w̶̫͓ḩe̱͇͖̟̱͓r̤͜e҉͚̹̞ ̞͓͎͈̤͔y͉͓̟̦̦̤oụ͎͖̰̮'̥̞̼̬v̮͖̲̗̤̜e͍̮̰ ̪h̫̭̼͔̯̜͕i̙d͜d̝e̮͕̭n̛̙̤̻͎ ̷͚̱̟ͅi̞̦t͝,̝̦̲͔̜ ͇I̡̗'̶̣̩̩̦̙̣m̷̩͓̺̫̲̯ ̰̙̰͚ͅg̬o҉n͚ͅn̙̱a̹͝'̡̟ ̭̘̻͈ḛ̰̟̜̬a̕t̯͚̝̪̥̭͇ ̞̝̗͉͚͘y̞͕̤̜̱͙͠o̴̦͍͉̜͔̭u̹̰̱͢r ̱̯̬̪f̬̱͉͚̱̭u̫͇͎̥͉̘̪͜c̡k̴̻̠i͈̫̙̻͓̼ͅn̶g̼̹̗ ̜͘h̫̦͔ͅe̗a͚̰̭̖̫͖͢r̰͉ͅt̩̯̜͢!̮"̱̖

 

“Of course,” Yumichika said, and he was so calm, because this wasn’t Ikkaku. It never was and he knew it now. He didn’t flinch from the ferocity of the promise of violence given with the voice he’d recognize anywhere, he didn’t shy away from the insanity in the eyes he loved. 

“Of course you need my heart. If you don’t have one of you own, of course you want it. You’re only a parasite. It must be torment without one, isn’t it.” He wrapped his fingers around the needle, digging his nails in when it slipped in his grasp as Ikkaku struggled and kicked.

“But you’re wrong,” he murmured. “Ikkaku does have a heart. Why do you think you couldn't find mine.” He planted his other hand on Ikkaku’s chest for leverage and yanked the needle out, still leaking, drip after drip of black fluid.

He carefully wrapped it in a towel and set it aside.

Ikkaku continued to shout and struggle, but over the next ten or so minutes, he quieted down, his voice gradually returning to normal. He sagged against his bonds, his breath coming in short gasps. Eventually, Yumichika deemed it safe to untie him, and tried to help him stand and walk to the bathroom to wash off and take a drink of water. That was when his heart began pounding, when his hands began to tremble. Ikkaku was so shaky and weak, so pale with sickness. That thing had given him a manic energy in its last fight to escape, but now that it was gone, he looked like he was about to collapse — and Yumichika felt frightened.

“How do you feel?” he asked, a hand on his arm as Ikkaku stood at the sink, gripping the edge and panting, pressing a washcloth to his chest where the open wounds still seeped blood.

Too weak to reply, Ikkaku stood there and gasped for breath, tried to speak, but couldn’t. When he brought the towel away, staring at himself in the mirror, Yumichika looked too.  
  
  
"A heart," Ikkaku pants, and Yumichika doesn't understand for a second, until Ikkaku touches his chest, raw and ripped apart.  
  


He's right. The gouge marks there do sort of look like a lopsided heart.


	18. Chapter 18

Ikkaku wasn’t a person who got sick often, and kept in the prime of physical fitness, so he wasn’t very happy with the way he felt now, so weak and wobbly. More than that, now that whatever that thing had been inside him was gone, he felt bereft somehow, _empty_ almost.

He remembered the pain, sharp and almost unbearable, as Yumichika had scraped away his flesh bit by bit, but he’d been glad, he’d been proud to see the hard set to Yumichika’s face, to see how he didn’t hesitate — and most of all, he was grateful that at the end he could still rely on him to be there, to have his back, he was glad that he could ask him to do this.

The moment he was aware enough to realize that he was feeling bad, sagging there with a hole in his chest, and saw Yumichika looking at him in concern, he knew it must have happened again.

“What did I say?” he whispered, and was surprised at how hard it was coming out, even such a pathetic sound. Everything hurt, everything felt so weak and sore all over — his head was fucking _pounding._  “Did I… You got it out?” he panted, and Yumichika nodded as he unbound him. “What did I say?”

“Never mind that. We have to take this in as soon as you can walk,” Yumichika said, and normally, Ikkaku would be irritated with Yumichika hovering at his side, holding his arm in a tight grip, but the two of them were alone and he really wasn’t confident that he wouldn’t collapse at any moment. Not only that, he was too tired and his head hurt too much for him to worry about his pride.

After trying to clean him up and get him to drink some water, they had to go. Ikkaku got a long and uncomfortable look at his chest in the mirror, staring at it thoughtfully. Everything ached and throbbed, and his headache was becoming unbearable. “My head,” he grunted, putting a hand to his temple, tempted to bang it there as if he could _hit_ the pain out. “It won’t stop pounding,” he hissed.

“You’re ridiculous, what about your chest,” Yumichika huffed, sounding more like his old self than he had in ages. “I can see a bone there and you’re complaining about a headache!” Ikkaku was so pleased to hear him scold him in that way that he didn’t complain anymore.

There was no rest. As soon as Yumichika’s closed him up with a kidou that was better than something Ikkaku could’ve done himself but still mediocre when he considered how much better Yumichika could’ve done it if he’d been allowed to practice openly, they had to hurry out. He had to lean on Yumichika as they walked, too weak to simply flash step, but then, Division Twelve was just next door.  

Ikkaku knew it was long overdue that he’d finally come here, and still felt some residual guilt at his foolish stubbornness, which was probably why he was civil to Akon — he hasn’t forgotten that note he’d sent him about his teeth. If it wasn’t for his intense throbbing headache, he would’ve paid more attention to the way Akon’s face lit up when Yumichika showed him the needle he’d recovered, still slowly leaking. Ikkaku thought it was kind of a morbid thing to get excited about, but then, he was a scientist, so.

He vaguely remembered being told that it wouldn’t take long now for an antidote to be made, because with a sample of the venom, Akon can make an anti-venom — aside from injecting him with it to ensure he was cured, apparently they also had Kurosaki’s dismembered arm in a freezer or something, which could now be recovered.

While they waited, Ikkaku was instructed to do a water-detox over the next twenty-four hours, and aside from having to pee almost constantly, over time he noticed that the throbbing of his head meant something. In fact, _everything_ was throbbing, a subtle unceasing throb and thump — it wasn’t so quiet anymore. That eerie unending silence that he’d had to get used to after so long suffering with it, it had stopped.

    What he meant was… he can hear his own heartbeat. He hadn’t even noticed that it was gone until it had come back.  The entire time that fucking senbon had been stuck in there, it had lain silent and still, but now the silence, the darkness was well and truly gone. He was free.

 

     He’s free.

 

 _‘Houzukimaru!’_ he called joyously. He felt him there, quiet and weak, exhausted, but undeniably _back._  Ikkaku felt like running and jumping, and can hardly sit still enough to meditate.

   _‘Hey kid,’_ Houzukimaru rasped. _‘Finally quit fucking around, huh?’_      
  


He’s back — he’s back and they’re together again, at last. The moment he found himself inside — how he’s _missed_ being here — Ikkaku ran to him like a little boy and threw his arms around his thick scaled neck, burying his face in his side happily. “Shut up!” he cried, shoving his thick muscled flank and jumping around in excitement. He rubbed his hands over Houzukimaru’s rough bumpy head, hugging it as much as he could get his arms around it, digging his forehead against one of his horns.  
  


“Aww fuck, I missed your stupid snoring!” He can’t stop smiling.

      “Missed your attitude.”  Ikkaku was so glad he was back that he didn’t want to let him go, resting his head on the dry leathery crest above his golden eye.   “Now get out. I need a nap.”

“You just want me to go so Kujaku can come in here, don’t you!"  
 

“What’s it to ya’. Now scram.”  
 

Ikkaku comes out of it still laughing, and Yumichika is there next to him, smiling.

 

. . .

 

Renji took a tentative step through the Senkaimon, feet meeting the dark pavement of Karakura town.

The last week or so has been rough. He wished he could say he’d coped emotionally as well as he’d coped with his physical recovery, but the sad truth was that the past few days have been slow and grey and _hard._  
  


He kept having bad dreams about when it had happened — when Ichigo had ripped him apart.   _‘I love you,’_ Renji would tell him, and Ichigo would turn white and black and plunge his hand through his chest.

   _‘This worthless thing?’_ Ichigo would spit, and then, every time, he’d ferociously tear out his heart, and Renji would wake up wheezing and sweating, and then, sometimes, he’d cry.  
  


It wasn’t all bad. He’s spent a lot of time with Rukia, talking through his issues, and he’s had a long time to think, first in the hospital, and then the many hours spent in the office and alone at night in bed.

He’d swallowed his pride and reconciled with Ikkaku too, because now that he’d had some time to think about it, he knows that he’d been so hurt in that moment that he’d been unfair.  
  


“I said some stuff I shouldn’t have,” he told him, civil, but there was still a distance there. “I’m still mad. But…” he huffed. “I dunno’, I guess… Well, Ichigo hurt me too, and I know it wasn’t the same, but… I mean, I forgave him.”

He sighed. “What I’m saying is, if Yumichika forgave you, I do too.” Looking away, he clenched his fists. “I just… I wish it hadn’t happened.”

“Me too,” Ikkaku murmured.  
  


He grit his teeth, because it’s still hard, because he'd had to _see_ what Ikkaku had done to Yumichika, and as much as he _knows_ that he’d been insane at the time and hadn’t been able to stop himself, it’s still hard, because his heart cried out for vengeance, wanted someone to blame and abuse for the pain Yumichika had suffered.     

“I’m glad,” Renji said, and they don’t look at each other, but he meant what he said. “I’m glad you’re better.”

For a moment, Ikkaku didn’t say anything, and Renji thought the distance between them had opened up too wide, that in his rage, he’d childishly lashed out too hard and hurt their relationship, and now he’d lost his older brother. For a moment he thought things couldn’t go back to how they were between them, and as upset as he still was, he regretted it; he felt desperately sad.

But Ikkaku reached out and clapped him on the shoulder and squeezed, and Renji felt as though something inside him loosened, let him breathe easier again.

No, it’s not all bad. He’s seen Yumichika and Ikkaku walking together again as they'd used to, and Yumichika seemed to be his usual self, if a little quieter than he was normally. Ikkaku had gone back to normal too other than being hyper-attentive to Yumichika.

Renji supposed it was the best that could be hoped for in the aftermath of such a tragedy, and what he’d thought was broken glass still shimmered and gleamed like a diamond once more, because wasn’t it amazing, the strength of that bond his two senpai had, that it could survive so much pain?  
  


   _‘I’m glad. I really am. Looks like all the loose ends are tied up.’_  
  


_‘Not all,’_ Zabimaru rumbled.  
  
  


  Ichigo had gone back like he’d thought he [ would](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V5uS0Um9YzA).  
  


And Renji missed him as badly as he’d missed Rukia, but just like he had with her, Renji let him go, and told himself, _‘Stay out of his way. Stay out of it.’_  

He knew logically that he shouldn’t take what was said in an argument to heart, because emotions had been running high and he’s sure they’d both said some things they hadn’t meant — _he definitely had —_ but actions spoke volumes, and Ichigo had gone back without even saying goodbye, without even checking to see that he was alright.

Renji had woken up alone, after all. He’d at least expected Ichigo to come and see him, and he can’t deny that it hurt, _damn, it hurt_  for Ichigo to pull away like that, as if he could've been anybody, not even worth worrying about, like what they'd had between them hadn’t even mattered. But it _had_ mattered, it really had, and that’s why it hurt so bad.

He hasn’t changed. He’s the same old dog crawling on the ground, he’s the same man with the resolve tempered over forty years, persevering through the cold distance he felt from the ones he loved most. He still hasn’t figured out how to stop feeling like this, or how to make them stay.  
  


 _‘Zabimaru… He pulled away… They always pull away,’_ he murmured sadly, closing his eyes and finding himself in the white expanse of space, lying on his back, Zabimaru circling him, thick fur brushing his face, his arm, then the cold slide of scales along his chest.

  
‘Always, the one I care for most, they leave my side, and no matter how I call out to them or reach out my hand, they don’t return.’ He turned his cheek into Zabimaru’s leg as he made another pass, stalking past his head.   
 

 _‘Why do I always end up alone? I want to be loved. I’ve waited so long, I’ve tried so hard, but in the end, I’m all alone.’_  
  


_‘The price of a big heart is how deeply it feels, and sometimes that means pain and loneliness. Such is your burden.’_ Renji set his jaw resignedly, aching all over. _‘Do not despair, little one,’_ Zabimaru told him, comforting him. _‘Hope is not yet lost.’_  
  


_‘How can it not be? He’s gone,’_ Renji wrenched out.   _‘He’s gone for good… How did I ever think that he would stay? I was a fool… It always happens.’_

 

His heart, his damned heart didn’t learn, wouldn’t harden or turn cold no matter how many times the soft center was pierced.

 

  _‘I hate myself. I thought I learned from the past and changed my ways, but look at me, still nothing but a tramp, right down to my bones.’_ He shut his eyes.   _‘The truth is, I’m alone because that’s all I deserve. Who could ever love someone so pathetic?... It’s my destiny to howl at the moon from afar.’_  
  


_‘Zangetsu is not the moon,’_ Zabimaru reminded him. _‘He is a human boy, and so is the one who carries him.’_  
  


_‘Yes… I shouldn’t have let myself be that selfish… It wasn’t fair of me, to push so much on him at once. Look at how I’ve chased him away…’_  
  


_‘Oh Renji… Have you learned nothing?’_

 

Renji opened his eyes to find the white blind eyes of his counterpart staring down into his. _‘What?...'_  
  


 _‘Why do you behave like you’ve lost Rukia again, as if Ichigo and Rukia are anything alike? He was the one who helped you two reconcile. He was the one who at long last made you brave enough to face Kuchiki Byakuya, when you were too scared to even tread in his shadow.’_  
  


_‘Yes, but-’_  
  


_‘Will you truly repeat your mistakes, and continue to crawl and cower as he walks away? You must take courage.    He is special to you. There will never be another as long as you live. You must hang on with all your might or you will regret saying goodbye for your whole life long.’_   
  


Renji knew that, he knew it deep in his soul that it was true, but it was too late now, wasn’t it?  
  


 _‘But he’s made his choice, Zabimaru,’_ Renji murmured, eyes shimmering pitifully. He can’t raise his hopes to have them dashed again. He can’t sink any lower, can’t be kicked while he's down even once more; he’s sure he’ll never recover, he’s sure he’s not strong enough.  
  
  
_‘He said himself that he never would’ve come here if he hadn’t had to. He wants to be there, in his real home. It's best if I let go now.’_     Zabimaru passed around him once more, snake tail sliding along his face as he wandered off, leaving him to close his eyes and fade into the empty space.  
  


 _‘I’m surprised, Renji.   And here I thought nothing could ever take away our heart.’_  
  
  


Renji opened his eyes, alert, unfolding his legs and standing purposefully. He just hoped that so soon after taking sick leave to recover his injuries, the captain would allow him a day off.  

 

  
      “Yeah,” he muttered. “I’ve got heart.”

 

  [ In the end,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OpUXpVa6y7w) Renji goes. He felt sorry for it if Ichigo had wanted to be left in peace, but he had to see him this one last time. 

Feeling oddly reminiscent, Renji walked through the sky and along rooftops and through traffic until he came to Ichigo’s neighbourhood. Even without being able to feel the kid’s spirit pressure, lively and pulsing along as bright and intensely as ever, Renji couldn’t forget where he lived, couldn’t forget the afternoons spent here on their undercover mission, couldn’t forget days he’d laid around in Ichigo’s room reading magazines and studying the human world while Ichigo did his homework nearby. He couldn’t forget being led around through this strange place and being fed things he’d never seen before, shown things he never could’ve imagined.  He couldn’t forget Ichigo’s high school days, the young boy of fifteen, not so very long ago.

When he made it to the gate of the Kurosaki clinic, Renji walked into the yard and looked up at Ichigo’s window, and suddenly nothing had changed. It was just like the old days, when Ichigo was still an active Shinigami-daikou, fiercely needed by Seireitei, on alert for a moment’s notice emergency — it was just like the old days when he’d come to Ichigo’s window, hop up there on the ledge and come through into his room.  
  


Renji felt nervous somehow.    _‘What if he doesn’t want to see me?’_  
  


_‘He will,’_ Zabimaru assured him.  
  


_‘But even if he does, then what, huh? He said himself that he’s a human and I’m not. I can’t do this, come here and beg on my knees for him, steal his future away, not now that he’s finally back in his real life. Not after everything he’s said.’_

 

 _‘But you did come.’_ Renji paused, brooding over his selfishness, feeling doubt and regret in that moment.  
  


 _‘I should be happy for him, to see him where he belongs… but instead it feels like a tragedy. I don’t want to say goodbye. At least, if we have to, not just yet.’_  
  


_‘Chase him.’_  
  


Renji clenched his eyes shut and ground his jaws back and forth. _‘This is selfish. He won’t want to see me. I shouldn’t have come here.’_  
  


_‘But you did come. So you may as well beg after all.’_  
  


   Renji opened his eyes, and at long last, his heart, weary and weak, slowly opened, reaching out a hand again, because in the end, he's always been a fool for love.

 

_‘Alright.    Here I go.’_

 

He took a breath and then threw a pebble or two at the glass. The light was on in the room. Was he in there? 

When the window didn’t open up and a blonde head didn’t poke out, Renji went up to the ledge and looked inside, finding Ichigo sleeping. He lay there on top of the covers, eyes closed, arms behind his head. Swallowing, Renji spent a few moments just looking at him, lying there on his back, frowning even in his dreams, and then gently knocked on the glass with a knuckle.

Ichigo woke up slowly, wiping his eye, and then sat up, and for a moment they just stared at each other through the glass. Then Ichigo reached a hand out and slid it open, but despite the barrier between them being removed, neither of them came closer, neither of them speak. Renji frowned uncertainly at the tired expression on Ichigo’s face.

It wasn’t exactly often that Ichigo smiled, but he usually took care not to look so openly _sad_ — and he did, more than Renji’d ever seen him.

  
     “What are you doing here?” Ichigo wondered at last, with a certain hesitance.

“Missed you,” Renji told him honestly, because he’s here to beg, and there’s another beat where they just look at each other, Renji holding the eye contact unwaveringly. “Wanted to see your face,” he murmured softly. Ichigo at last looked away, and the sad look got worse as he sighed and pulled his ear.

“How… how are you feeling?”

It took Renji a moment to realize he was talking about his injuries and not alluding to their breakup, if it could be called that.   “I’m alright. They fixed me up real good. Took a while to get back on my feet, but now I’ve only got an itch in my side when I twist.”   Ichigo nodded, but didn’t say anything more. Renji took a few breaths, not knowing where this left them. Ichigo wasn’t inviting him to come inside, but he hasn’t sent him away either.

   “Why didn’t you visit?” he murmured, grinding his teeth a little when too much hurt came through in his voice.  “I thought you would… but you didn’t come.”

“I did. Once they,” Ichigo cleared his throat, “… y’know… Once they closed you up.”  Renji let out a soft ‘oh,’ gazing at Ichigo despite the way he turned away, not meeting his eyes.   “... I can still feel it on my hand sometimes… your insides,” he muttered very quietly, trying to swallow. Renji didn’t know what to say to break the silence, watching Ichigo slide his jaw back and forth, this muscle straining in his neck over and over.

“It ripped me apart, y’know… I was really scared...” Ichigo pressed his lips together. “I thought you were dead. It fucked me up, Renji.”

“But... but why didn’t you come? Once I was better?” Renji wondered after a moment. “When I woke up, you weren’t there.”  
  
Ichigo admitted, “Thought you might not wanna’ see me… after we fought.” His eyes lifted hesitantly to Renji’s. “I thought…” He looked away again, biting his tongue.

   Renji stared openly for several long seconds, heart pounding hard.  
  
  
    _‘You were right,’_ he thought dazedly, knowing Zabimaru was there as always, watching. _‘He still…’_ He swallowed, steeling his nerves.   

_‘Hope’s not lost. I just have to tell him.’_

 

    “Can I come in?” he managed at last.

“Oh,” Ichigo blurted. “Yeah sure.” He pulled his legs in a little so Renji could get off the window ledge and sit on the end of his bed.

Renji didn’t mince words. After a beat of silence, he asked directly, “Are you gonna’ come back?”  He wasn’t sure if he meant _soon_ or _ever._

“I don’t know.”

“I miss you,” he pressed with a note of desperation, but it’s hard, it’s hard to lay his heart out there so openly when it’s taken so much abuse throughout his life, but that’s part of loving, giving that heart up to another person’s care, and there’s no one worthier to sacrifice it to than Ichigo. Renji doesn’t want to walk away from this, not without knowing he’d done everything he could’ve done. He doesn’t want to regret anymore.      
 

      “I still love you,” he tells him, lays his heart down at his feet.

Ichigo looked up, almost shy about it, and Renji can see himself there, the hesitancy, but the _hope_ that still tentatively poked through — and all at once, he realizes that he’s never said it to him straight out like that before, but he’s glad he did, because _look_ _at his face_.    
 

  “You do?”

“Yeah.” Renji gave a sad grimace of a smile. “Can’t stop.”

“...” Ichigo looked at his hands where they lay clenched on his thighs, biting his lips. Renji’s smile grew, and it takes everything he has then not to reach out to him, not to lay his hand on top of Ichigo’s.

   _‘He’s shy,’_   Renji realized, when Ichigo didn’t reply and just continued to squirm.

He sighed, stretching his arms behind his head and leaning back against the windowsill.

“You know, they figured out what was wrong with Ikkaku. That venom that got everybody, he had a needle stuck inside of him. He must’ve been goin’ crazy and none of us knew for so long. But they took it out,” he told him, seeing out of his periphery that Ichigo was listening. “They made an antivenom. He’s better now. Orihime can reject your injury again and then they can give it to you. You can have your real arm back.”

“I can,” Ichigo repeated, almost disbelievingly at first, then stared at Renji open-mouthed, and Renji expects that when he gets over his shock, he’ll smile or something and be excited to have his arm again, or be glad that he doesn’t have to be afraid his mind is a ticking time bomb waiting to snap.

  Instead, the first thing he said, almost dazedly, was:  “And I can be with you.”

Renji stared back for a second, and after the initial elation of hearing Ichigo say those words, he was immediately and _intensely_ annoyed. He nearly groaned aloud, because _really?_ Was it still about that, after all this time? Honestly, he’d give Ichigo a wallop if he wasn’t so relieved to hear that he still cared.   

“I _told_ you I don’t want you for your arm!” he scolded, “Why are you hinging our relationship on that?”   Softening his tone, he huffed, “I like you how you are.”

Ichigo raised an eyebrow and muttered derisively, “Are you sure about that?”

“Why would you say that for heavensake?” Renji demanded. “What are you tryina’ to say, you think I don’t?”

“I’m saying you haven’t thought it through. You obviously didn't,” Ichigo said, a hard bitter edge to his voice that made Renji close his mouth and listen, because Ichigo didn’t often get personal.

“At the beginning when you first sprung it on me, you made me think we were gonna’ take our time — but then all of a sudden it was like you changed your mind and I had to give up my whole world,” he recounted. Renji hung his head, knowing well enough to keep his mouth shut.

   Ichigo was quiet for a second in sober consideration and then muttered, “I don’t know what went wrong, if you got spooked or if I did something or what — you just blew up. And don't say it was over telling you to kill me, because it wasn't. It came out of fucking nowhere, Renji.”

“I’m sorry. I know I flipped my shit,” Renji mumbled. “I just… Look, you know how me and Rukia were split apart for so long? When Captain Kuchiki adopted her, I didn’t want to stand in her way, so I thought it was best that I be brave and try not to be selfish — y'know, let her fly free. But in the end, I hurt her anyway, and I lost her.” He took a couple raspy breaths.

“So I… I thought…”  He looked away and clenched his jaw. “You were pulling away and I got scared. I didn’t want to say goodbye, and this time… I held onto you too tight.”  
  
"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"... Don't make me tell you shit and then be an ass," Renji said defensively.

"No just... what the fuck."

"I mean what I said, I thought I was losing you. What was I supposed to think when you said you're going away because I wouldn't kill you. Fuckhead."

“But _why_ though?" Ichigo wondered, baffled. "Because that's not what that fight was about. You weren't mad about that, you were yelling about me going home. I don't get it, why were you scared because of that?"

"... I... Look, it's fucked up, okay?" Renji muttered.

"You weren’t worried about it before," Ichigo tried with a frown. "You weren’t like that at the start. What did I...”

“No," Renji said emphatically. "It was all me."

"Then why?"

"I said I got scared. I’m not proud of it. Besides, you're the jerk who said you had to go away because you were too dangerous. Jackass,” Renji accused, and Ichigo's face pinched and crumpled.

"... I didn't want to hurt you," Ichigo muttered.

"Well you did anyways."

"I don't think you get how much this affected me, Renji. You and me were just starting out together, and right as I start thinking of you like that, I —" He swallowed, putting a hand to his eyes. "I was scared of hurting you," he whispered, and he looked so cut up over it that Renji felt a little guilty.

"We could've figured something out. You didn't have to freak me out by breaking up."

"Well you didn't have to blow your stack over me coming back here! You've obviously been worrying about this a lot! Why didn't you fucking  _talk_ to me?!"

"I'm sure I woulda' eventually! There wasn't enough time!" Renji shot back defensively, because Ichigo hadn't exactly been very open with him either. "And besides," he mumbled, "I didn't want to tell you. I was scared."

"I just said I was scared too." Ichigo met his eyes then, and Renji could see hurt there, and longing; regret and sadness. “Maybe I wasn't much better, but you could’ve told me instead of worrying on your own.”

“I couldn’t tell you,” he wrenched out, because after all this time, he can’t say it, can’t tell Ichigo he threw everything away because of jealousy, _insecurity._  It’s too stupid, too horrible, and he doesn’t want Ichigo to know that ugly pathetic side of him.    

“Why not?”

“I couldn’t, okay?!”

“Stop talking like you were the only one who was serious. I was serious too,” Ichigo said tersely. “You’re the first person who’s ever cared about me like that and it was… Maybe you don’t believe it, but it was special for me, alright?” he grit out.   “But that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to come back here. I thought you knew that.”    Renji knew he should say something, but he couldn’t find the words, his throat too dry and tight with emotion. This conversation hurt, but he knew they should’ve had it long ago, closer to the beginning.

“I would’ve worked for it,” Ichigo said earnestly. “You have to know that. I would’ve come to visit more. I wouldn’t have been away forever, when I came back here. I don’t know what set you off, what got you so upset, because I was never saying that I wasn’t willing to put in the effort; I know it’s not a one-way street. I’d come visit you, I _would,_  but this will always be my home, this is always where my life’s going to be.”

“I know,” Renji said softly, and he felt bad then, that he hadn’t let Ichigo know that when he’d had the chance, that he’d made him feel like he had to make an impossible choice to either let go of him or let go of everything else he loved. But in that moment, Ichigo had thrown an impossible ultimatum at him too, to either promise to kill him or watch him walk away — and he’d lost his mind, hadn’t been able to think straight.   

    “I’ve always known.  I just got all…”

He tried to explain, he really did, but he didn’t want to tell Ichigo how foolish he’d been, how insecure, how much he hated himself for losing faith because of something so silly as Orihime coming to visit. He felt stupid for it now, a grown man getting so scared, and he didn’t want to show Ichigo that awful part of him.

“I don’t know why I said what I did. I was messed up over that other business and I lost my cool. I think you did too. It was bad timing and it fucked things up — but I’m over all of that now,” he promised. “We can give this another shot, you an’ me. We can work it out.”

Ichigo grimaced, a hand at his forehead as he gave Renji a long tired look. “We’ve gotta’ be realistic, okay? There's clearly a lot of stuff we should've talked about before that we never bothered with — maybe we would have if there'd been more time, but we have to now."

"Okay," he said earnestly. He'll do anything, he'll meet any demand Ichigo could possibly have.

"Being together… It’s not gonna’ be easy,” he sighed. “We’ll be apart a lot. My family’s here, my job, my school… I can’t give it all up. I don’t _want_ to.” Renji nodded, as hard as that was to swallow, as much as it hurt to hear.  “And I know you can’t come live here with me either,” Ichigo said softly.

“Which means to make this work it’s gonna’ take tireless dedication. We’ll both have to visit each other when we can. And there's no payoff at the end of it either. It's just gonna be like that all the time with no let up. Our relationship won’t progress. We can never take that next step like normal people do, of moving in together, or marriage and family, or _anything._  Not until I die, at least — if it even lasts that long. It's gonna’ be a never ending dumpster fire. Are you ready for that?” Ichigo asked.

“What about you, huh?” Renji accused. “Don’t act like it’s only gonna’ be hard for _me._  You’re basically chaining yourself to an invisible ghost boyfriend who you can’t tell your friends and coworkers about. Everyone's gonna' think you're some sad pathetic lonely guy and you won't even be able to tell them you're not actually single. Because I'm a goddamn ghost.” Ichigo snorted.

“You can visit in a gigai if it bothers you that much. We can still do human dates.”

“It won’t be a substitute. I’m not a real human,” Renji said. “You’d be giving up a lot. Who knows how long you’re gonna’ live before you finally bite it.” He gave a long sigh, and shot Ichigo a wry look.

“Look Ichigo, don’t take this personally, but I’ve lived a lot longer than you have, and I don’t know how much you can put the span of decades into perspective. Ten, twenty, fifty years, it’s a _long time,_ and you don’t know what might change down the road. I mean, what if you wanted to have kids someday, or get married? Like you just said, you and I can never take that step — not while you're here. People change, and you’re still so young…”

“A guy can always change his mind,” Ichigo said. “If it's too hard, then we'll stop. Not that complicated.”

“Aren’t you serious about me?” Renji frowned.

“Yeah… but I’m just being real here. Like you said, we can’t know how we’ll feel down the road.”

“I love you,” Renji told him earnestly.

Ichigo pursed his lips, ears turning just slightly pink. “Well who says you’ll love me forever.”

“I've gotten started now so I might as well," Renji joked. "Besides, I’m close to immortal, so I have that option.” Ichigo raised his eyebrows but didn’t say anything, lip quirking. “But until you’re with me, it’s gonna’ be tough for you, isn’t it?...” Renji heaved a great sigh. “While you’re living, you’re gonna’ be tied to some dead guy no one else knows about. Even if we do make it work, you’re lookin’ at fifty or so years on your own.”

[ When he looked at Ichigo](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N8ISJ7iLric) at last, expecting to see him pissed off at the suggestion that he was too young to know what he was getting into, Ichigo instead was gazing at him, chin on his knees. 

“But I won’t be alone,” he murmured, and Renji’s lips parted, and he doesn’t know how he’s ever lived without him, didn’t know how he’d functioned in those years before Ichigo had existed. He’s so perfect, look at him there, the glowing brown eyes, the glowing hair, the bright youthful glowing heart. He’s so perfect he can’t bear it.

“Besides,” Ichigo suddenly flashed his teeth, and Renji just kept staring, gobsmacked. “I guess that just means I’ll have a lotta’ time for those dates you promised me.”

“Heh’,” Renji laughed, it bubbled out of him uncontrollably as Ichigo continued looking at him, still smiling, but softer now; shyer.  “We’ve had a lot of adventures together, bud,” Renji sighed, grinning wide, eyes fondly tracing Ichigo’s face, not as round or full as it had been when they’d first met, but still sweet, still soft.

“This is just our next challenge. I’m ready for whatever happens. As long as I can be at your side, I’ll be fine.”

Ichigo isn’t smiling then. He’s just staring at him with these wide open eyes that seem to touch him, feel inside him. Renji watched as he swallowed slowly.  At last, he spoke, and when he did, he looked away, pulling his ear a little bit. “What you said before… Me too.”

  
“What?”

“Me, for you too,” Ichigo muttered, beginning to flush just a little, and Renji understood then, the realization snapping into place so suddenly that he felt frozen for a second — _‘He loves me back.’_

   “Oh.”

He didn’t know when they’d drifted so close together, when he’d scooted to sit so near Ichigo, so that when they look at each other, they’re not far apart at all, not too far to touch, or to kiss…

“And uh… I think, uh…” Ichigo ducked his head, and practically whispered, “I think I’m ready.” He flicked his eyes up again for a second, managing, “I wasn’t before, but now…” He coughed. “Now- Now I am.”

  “. . .”

“For… you know,” he muttered, peeking an eye up. “To go all the way,” he said aloud, his pink face clashing with his hair in an awful but adorable way.

 _“Oh,”_ Renji breathed, the word punched out of him. And then he was smiling, beaming goofily at his teenage shyness, and after a moment he just reached his arms around him in an embrace, feeling dizzy with happiness when Ichigo’s hands met his back, when Ichigo rested his head on his shoulder and embraced him in return.

   _‘Is this… is this what it feels like?’_ he wondered, but Zabimaru just purred in approval.  
 

“I thought you were just complaining that I moved too fast even though I suggested we take it slow at first,” Renji teased a little.

“Yeah well,” Ichigo grumbled, chin digging into Renji’s shoulder, his hair brushing his neck. “I’ve had more time to consider my feelings… Why’d you do that anyways? I mean, you’re a stubborn guy, and you were so set on going slow, but then… How come? I still wanna’ know.”

“I told you, ‘cause I got scared,” Renji admitted, and that's all he's going to admit for some time to come. “I thought I was gonna’ lose you, didn’t I, so I wanted to rush things along.”

“That’s dumb. What for.”

“I didn’t say it made sense, I just said that’s what happened,” Renji shot back, and then melted around him again, murmuring in his ear, “Besides… I’m not scared anymore.” Running his hand on the back of Ichigo’s head, feeling his soft fluff of hair, he muttered, “We can go slow now, like we meant to.”

“You… You don’t want to do it?” Ichigo wondered tentatively.

Considering, he mumbled, “I wouldn’t complain.”

 “You said we’d… _make love,_ before,"he breathed, clearly mortified, but he still said it, which brought a smile to Renji’s face, finding Ichigo’s inexplicable modesty charming. Renji felt Ichigo’s fingers curl nervously into his back, the nails digging in.

“What, you’re gonna’ let me show you?”

“… If you’re gentle this time, you big jerk.”  Renji grins as they part and look into each other’s faces. Ichigo’s lips are pursed, and as Renji smiled wider and wider, Ichigo gave a sour frown.

“And no teasing,” he muttered, but let Renji take his face and draw him into a kiss, and once they sealed their mouths, Renji was at peace, his heart laying to rest.

They kissed each other for some time, until Ichigo at last separated them and licked his lips, averting his eyes and beginning to fidget. “You have what we need?” Renji asked, and Ichigo gave a jerky nod, getting off the bed and fumbling around in his closet for a towel and a plastic bottle that he tossed to Renji. He shut the closet door behind him and stood there for a few moments, just staring at him, waiting on his bed.

“Come to me,” Renji beckoned.  And he does.

Ichigo turned out the light, but the moonlight shining through the window was enough to set his body aglow as they undressed each other on his bed. They're both quiet, but the passion is there as their hands slowly run along the fabric to open it up and peel it back, to untie Renji’s shihakushou and then pull Ichigo’s sweats down.

They roll over the sheets, sensual in the way they touched one another, and Renji let Ichigo kiss him slow and explore curiously, if a bit clumsily. His own hands wander, fondling Ichigo’s erection, and when at last he put his hand inside his underwear and touched him directly, he gave a hot pant of anticipation against Ichigo’s wet lips.

Ichigo screwed his eyes shut in embarrassment, uncertain, especially when Renji pulled his underwear down a bit to look at him — but he didn’t tell him to stop, didn’t back out, and by all accounts, he was enjoying Renji’s touch. He was so reactive…

When Ichigo put a hand to his face, cheeks red with nervousness, Renji drew them together and kissed him to chase away his cares.     _‘He’s still shy for me to look at him,’_ Renji thought, fascinated and charmed by this fact.   _‘How can he be so pure…’_

It didn’t mean he was unenthusiastic, or unwilling to participate in any sense, as when Renji took Ichigo’s hand and directed it to his own arousal, holding it there so he would touch him, Ichigo tentatively squeezed and groped at him in return, his breaths coming out wet and heavy.

When at last they lay there bare and wrapped together, and Renji wet his hand and slid it between them, parted Ichigo’s legs, Ichigo gasped against his mouth, “Go… go slow.” He swallowed, confessing, “I’ve never… It’s my first time,” so earnest about it that he must think that Renjidoesn’t already know.

Absolutely enamored by that innocence, somehow left untouched despite years of hardship seen before his time, Renji kissed him, firmly sealing their mouths, his own face scrunching up, because damn, how much could a guy love another person — how many times can Ichigo make his heart flip and spin and melt.

“Is it gonna’ hurt?” Ichigo whispered, swallowing and breathing heavily as Renji broke away to kiss his ear, his neck, his hand still tracing and pressing there where he was sensitive and quivering.   


“Not if you trust me.”  


    And Ichigo does — opens up and lays his heart down for Renji.

  
The first look on Ichigo’s face when he eases a finger in, is surprise — apprehension, then surprise again, near panic. He let out a little yelp and then bit his lips hard, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth. Renji slides it back and forth, massaging and pressing at his insides.

“That’s… oh,” Ichigo breathed, eyes drifting open.

He is gentle, thorough about pleasuring him until Ichigo was far too busy sighing and biting his forearm to stay very embarrassed about holding his legs open for him to see. They take their time, until Renji was sure it’ll go in easy.

When Renji slotted them together at last and penetrated, dropping his forehead onto Ichigo’s shoulder and gritting his teeth at the feel of Ichigo’s nails scraping his back, he found that in spending so long on foreplay, he’d gotten much more excited than he’d realized, and for a second he has to try not to blow right there. Ichigo’s so hot and smooth inside, gripping his dick so nicely — _it’s so, so good._

He panted into Ichigo’s ear, holding onto him and rocking his body against him, thrusting once or twice, pausing when a strangled noise escaped Ichigo. Renji eased back for a second and moved his hair out of his eyes, and then grinned when he found Ichigo laughing breathlessly, wiping sweat from his own forehead and hanging onto his shoulders.

He sealed them chest to groin, sliding his arms under Ichigo’s and embracing him, pressing and grinding their hips together. Ichigo held onto him, thighs squeezing his sides, his gasps meeting Renji’s ear. “I can feel your heartbeat,” he breathed, “In… inside…”  


They're finally together and in the end, its perfect, so much that it's unbearable. He's so happy he thinks he might really cry. They're so perfect like that. He's never felt that way before...  


When Renji climaxed, everything tensing for one tight moment before sweet, sweet release, Ichigo panted with him, and petting his sweaty back and head. “Whoooo,” Renji breathed, letting out a long exhale of satisfaction, resting his body on Ichigo, counting the quick heartbeats he can feel Ichigo’s insides pulse against his dick, still hard and aching with aftershocks.

He thought Ichigo might tease him about his stamina, because he thinks that's the fastest he's cum in years, but Ichigo seemed too worn out and winded to say much of anything, still gasping like he’d collapsed after a sprint.

Renji picked himself up on his elbows and gave Ichigo a warm lazy smile, leaning down to kiss him, long and slow, and Ichigo wrapped his arms around him tight, kissing back. When they separated, Renji just enjoyed the sight of him for a few moments. Ichigo was still so flushed and breathless, looking exhausted beneath him, but a moment later, he gripped Renji’s shoulders tight and yanked him down, whispering in his ear.

“Now me,” he panted eagerly, and locked his arms and legs onto Renji, wrestling his lax and willing body over.

Renji laughed and laughed as Ichigo clumsily shot up and got on top of him, his hair a sweaty whirl, eyes wild and determined as he held him down and tried to put it in _right then_ like he thought Renji would try to stop him if he didn’t hurry.  


  “Hold your horses, lover-boy, let a guy breathe,” Renji laughed, “One sec’.”  


“My turn,” Ichigo insisted, giving him a suspicious look, like he really thought Renji wouldn't let him, but he lost that real quick when Renji opened up for him and started touching himself, getting warm and wet and ready to let him inside.

They made love back and forth for the better part of the night until they fell asleep together under the rumpled and damp covers.  


    The next waking thoughts were dazed and dreamy, when he found himself so comfortable that coming out of sleep was a slow and gentle process, slipping back under over and over as the sun warmed his face.

There’s even warmer naked skin burning against his own bare body, and he tightens his grip, rubbing his face along the smooth plane of flesh at his cheek. The subtle rhythm of breaths rocking him back and forth interrupt with a heavy inhale and then a sweet yawn. Renji yawned himself and cracked an eye open when Ichigo sat up in bed.

Renji peered up at him blearily, his arms thrown around his bare stomach, and quirked his lip sleepily when he sees Ichigo is looking at him and giving a soft smile of his own.

“G’morning,” Renji mumbled, yawning again and shifting, hugging himself to his side. Ichigo put a hand on his head, stroking his hair, loose and tangled.

“Morning,” Ichigo whispered back, voice raspy with sleep, but his eyes were oddly alert, his face twisting. 

Renji picked himself up on his elbow, frowning. “... What’s that look?...” For a moment, he wondered uncertainly, “Are you regretting last night?”

“What? No,” Ichigo snorted, looking away, pulling on the hair at the back of his neck.

“Oh,” Renji sighed in relief, but as he watched Ichigo and laid with him for a few minutes more, he noticed that he was undeniably fidgeting.    “What’s wrong with you?”  


“It’s time to get up now.”  


“Yeah…?” Renji sat up in bed, stretching his arms and back, and when he eased back against the metal headboard, he caught Ichigo looking away rather hurriedly. “Do you need to go somewhere?”

“No, but I want to get up,” he repeated, and Renji felt he must be missing some hint here.

“Okay.”

“I wanna’ get out of bed,” Ichigo said, like Renji was an idiot, but he just raised his eyebrow slowly, not understanding what he’s getting at. Ichigo ground his teeth together, but strangely, it looked like he was starting to flush; his ears were [ turning pink. ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eamGQRhYoEs)

“So can you, uh… close your eyes?... So I can get dressed?” Renji stared at him for a full five seconds before he burst out laughing, and when Ichigo scowled and burrowed into the blanket, cheeks growing progressively pinker, he laughed harder, until he couldn’t breathe, until no sound was coming out.    


  “It’s not funny! Don’t be an ass!”  


Renji did an air spittake, practically crying, and ducked when Ichigo swung for him. In retaliation, he just yanked the blanket to tease him, howling hysterically when Ichigo grabbed it back viciously, kicking him away towards the wall.  “What’s the matter?! Do you have a zit on your butt or something?! Lemme’ see!” Renji teased.

“Get away from me! You, you stupid monkey!”

Not caring a thing about being naked in the open, Renji throws himself atop him and prised his grip off the blanket, but Ichigo just booted him out of bed, right on his ass onto the cold floor. Renji dragged the covers with him, and gave a vicious pull. Ichigo didn’t let go, but the sudden yank did tow him right out of bed, tumbling him to the floor.

Indignantly, Ichigo got to his feet, cupping a hand over himself. “You are so ridiculous! Have some shame!” he hollered, stomping to his closet and throwing it open, rifling for some clothes.

Seeing Ichigo’s bare ass, Renji started to laugh again. Maybe it’s just because he’s a glutton for punishment, or maybe it’s because he’s in such a good mood from finally being able to be with the one he loves most, Renji felt cocky, and took a perverse pleasure in riling Ichigo up, just like old days.

“You said you wouldn’t tease. You’re goddamn impossible.”

“That was last night. And no I didn’t,” Renji denied. Ichigo let out a frustrated growl, but Renji just grinned wider, and yeah, maybe he’s being kind of an ass, but Ichigo’s butt is too perky not to admire.

“Careful. You’re so mad that you’re clenching. Showin’ me those cute dimples-”

Ichigo turned around and shoved his fist right in Renji’s face. “I will sock you one, I mean it, Renji!”    


Renji reached out and swatted him right on the ass. Ichigo gasped out loud.  


For a few seconds, they just stand there and stare at each other, and then Renji bolts for the door, flinging it open.  


“Wait!” Ichigo practically shrieked, clapping a hand to his shoulder just in time and yanking him back in, kicking the door shut and throwing himself against it. “Are you insane?! You are completely naked, you, you _idiot._ My sisters might see you!” he hissed, glaring at him accusingly, but his shoulders ease down after a second or two.   “... What? What are you smirking at?”

Renji just grinned wider, and grabbed Ichigo by the boner, and Ichigo immediately gulped, going red as a tomato.  “Aww, were you hiding this? Why so shy?” Renji teased, sauntering closer.

“You shut up, you, you-!” He clammed up when Renji ran his hand along his cock.   
"It's different in the daylight, okay?" he stammered out as Renji slowly went to his knees. Ichigo’s eyes got rounder and rounder and his voice, higher and higher. “What, what are you doing?” he squeaked.  


  “It’s better in the daylight though,” he hummed, licking his lips.  


“Why’s that,” Ichigo breathed, chest beginning to pant and heave as Renji dragged his hands over his torso and legs.  

Renji winked, and gave a wet kiss to the head of Ichigo’s cock, pink and flushed and cutely peeking out of the foreskin. Ichigo gasped, hands seizing the sides of Renji’s head as he trembled with excitement.     
  
     
                   “You get to see everything.”


	19. Chapter 19

Ikkaku had gotten his chest seen to by a professional, but it seemed like there would always be a faint surface scar left there. The scars left between him and Yumichika were much deeper and slower to heal. The two of them had to rebuild a friendship that had almost been destroyed by violence, and an even greater challenge was to start their new relationship under the shadow of such a tragedy.

Yumichika's forgiven him, but it's not as simple as that. He's reconciled things with Renji, and the captain seems to be giving him a second chance, and he's starting to relax around Yachiru again, but it's not that simple. It's hard for the ones he's hurt to trust him again, it's hard for him to trust himself again.

He knew that it was still very tough for Yumichika, no matter how expertly he hid it. He’d forgiven Ikkaku, but he could see there were bad moments, hard moments where even being near him was a struggle.

A thousand times he’s wished he could take it back, that he could go back to the before, but what was broken couldn’t be fixed so easily. But he knew it would, someday. They’ve survived so much together, they’ve come back from the brink of disaster after a fifty-plus-years lie came to light, and this wouldn’t be the end of them either. He just wished he could take the pain away, and sometimes the only way to do that is to leave Yumichika alone so that he didn’t have to look at his face. It hurts that he can't be the one to comfort Yumichika in those moments, that he's the one causing him pain, but he does what he has to.

He’s been under close observation ever since he’s been administered the antidote by Akon — they had to be sure it had worked, after all — but it wasn’t long until he was officially released, and when he was, once he and Yumichika got back home, there was a moment where they just turned and looked at each other, smiling.  
  


“It’s over,” Ikkaku breathed, and he can’t stop smiling. He waits tentatively, hopeful that Yumichika would be pleased too, that he'd be relieved. Yumichika beams back, lit up with joy.  
  


      _‘Houzukimaru… I don’t know what to do,’_ he thought in a daze. _‘I dunno’ what to do, I love him so much.’_

 _  
_ _‘Love him then. Reach out to him.’_  
  


 _‘I can’t. How can I.’_ His hands — they're too big, too rough to touch something so precious.  
  
 _  
_

_‘You can. Reach out.’  
_

Ikkaku hesitated, gazing uncertainly into Yumichika’s face, and then held out his hands between them tentatively. Yumichika slid his own into his grip, cool and smooth against his palms.

“I’m so glad,” Yumichika replied, and his eyes are shining so beautifully that Ikkaku felt overwhelmed with a desire to kiss him, hold him, _love him._ He didn’t know if he’d ever felt that before, but all of a sudden, it was there. He’s never loved anything as much as he loves Yumichika.  
  


“Me too,” Ikkaku murmured. “We’re alright. Aren’t we, Yumichika.”  
  


“Yes,” he breathed. “Yes, we’re alright.”  
  


Slowly, Ikkaku put his arms around him and held him. Yumichika held very still, and it took a long time, but he eventually relaxed and placed his hands around his back too, resting his head to Ikkaku’s shoulder, eyes even closing.  
  


   _‘Look… Houzukimaru, look!’_  
  


 _‘I see, kid. Go on an’ kiss him, why don’t you.’_  


Gently, very gently, Ikkaku put a hand at the back of Yumichika’s head, stroking his hair, and kissed him on the forehead. Yumichika’s eyes drifted open a little bit as he smiled, and then shut them again. “I love you,” he breathed, sounding so peaceful that Ikkaku’s heart felt it might burst.   “… I’ve always…”

They stand there and embrace for a long time, and Ikkaku knew that even if it was slow, everything would get better.  


. . .

  


“Rukia, are you sure?”  
  


“Renji, for heavensake! I’ve told you a thousand times, it’s a date. He told _you_ it was a date. He’s taking you on a date and you’re going to be there on time to meet him. He’s spent a long time planning this and I am not going to let his efforts go to waste!” 

Renji stood there silently, considering this as Rukia shoved at him from behind, trying to get him to get a move on.  
  


“. . . But are you _sure_ though.”   
  


“Renji, so help me, I will beat you with that paperweight.”  
  


“Okay, okay, but — man, I can’t believe it!” He squirmed with uncertainty. He was pleased, of course, and excited, but he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He still can’t quite wrap his head around the fact that this is his new life.

He should be getting used to it. Ichigo’s come to visit him a few times, let Renji take him for a night out, come back to his place for some private time together — what should really make it seem real was the way Zabimaru, never much of a talkative guy, yakked about Zangetsu almost constantly, the cute punk idiot.

Apparently those two had a lot of fun playing together. Renji can imagine why, because even though he still feels a little uncomfortable about Ichigo’s Hollow-Zanpakutou hybrid, Renji likes to play with Ichigo, and that has to be a similar feeling. It’s not as if he’ll ever have to talk to Zangetsu face to face, not these days during peacetime, but Ichigo has told him that it won’t be a big deal if they do. He doesn’t have to worry about the Hollow-side hating him or attacking him. Apparently, this Shirosaki guy has a little bit of a crush on him, if Ichigo’s to be believed.  
  


“He does? Whoa, embarrassing.”  
  


“What? Why.”  
  


“‘Cause that means you must have a _humongous_ crush on me,” Renji had teased when Ichigo had first told him.  
  


“Shut up! So what if I do!”  
  
  


      Shirosaki can't be so bad of a guy — not with Ichigo being the way he is.  
  
  


Renji loves him. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this happy, this open and innocent thing, such free and easy love — everything feels new and wonderful, and he wants Ichigo to feel like that too when they’re together, wants to make sure he never regrets being with him. Renji’s learned never to take these things for granted.

Maybe it’s because even feeling so perfect at long last, there are always scars. Renji had suffered for so long, and even though Ichigo was there now and he doesn’t have to suffer anymore, the heart doesn’t forget. It takes a long time for a heart to let go of those pains.

That’s why it’s so important that he put his all into this, try harder than he’s ever tried, and not waste the time he’s been given — because he can't lose this, can't let go, not now that he's known what it is to finally be accepted.  
  


“Where’s he gonna’ take me? Did he say? Is it a weird human thing?” Renji pestered, even though Rukia turned her nose up primly. “C’mon, _please,_ you’re the living world expert, not me!” he tried, but she wasn’t dumb enough to fall for flattery.

“You went to his place for field research during the war just as much as I did, fool!”

Renji put his palms together. “Rukia, I’m begging you. Don’t let me look stupid on this date! I have to be ready!”

“Fine, fine, I hate to see a grown man grovel,” she teased, but he perked up in victory, pumping a fist. “One of the places he planned was a karaoke bar,” she confessed. Renji’s face fell, shoulders and brows dropping heavily.

“The fuck is that?”

“It’s a living world thing. Look into it,” she says, waving a hand. “You both have lovely singing voices.”

“He does?” Renji wondered, then smiled proudly, “I do?” A doubletake — _“He does?”_

“Get going or you’ll be late!” She chased him outside, and he laughed, making a show of running away, but then bent so she could fix his hair and bandanna one last time. She kissed her hand and then pressed it to his cheek.  
  


“There, that fool will swoon from your handsomeness!”  
  


“Thanks!” he called, waving, then whipped around again a second later. “Wait! Rukia, what’s karaoke?!”  
  


“You’ll figure it out! Good luck, and remember, too much tongue ruins a makeout!”  
  


He glares at her for the second before the senkaimon closes. _“Rukia!”_

 

. . .

 

“What’s a moocher like yourself doing here on this fine morning?” Urahara teased from behind his fan when Renji came through the rift and showed up in his shop.

“Ah, sorry for intruding,” he apologized, bowing a little on reflex because it still got under his skin to be called a freeloader, even though Ichigo’s taken pity on him by this point and let him in on the joke that apparently Urahara and the others did that _entirely_ to make him do chores for free.  
  


“You have some business?”  
  


“I have a date,” Renji announced proudly, chest puffing out. “My gigai still here?”  
  


“In the back.”  
  


Once he was all dressed up and ready, he waited out in the yard until Ichigo showed up, walking up to him with his hands in his pockets. Renji tried not to look excited; Ichigo was dressed kinda’ nice. He was wearing those fashionable bracelets he liked, and it looked like he’d styled his hair. It really was a date, wasn’t it.

I mean, of course, Ichigo had said it plainly — ‘Hey, come over, I wanna’ take you out’ —  but it hadn’t seemed quite real until that moment. Ichigo hasn’t taken him on a date before, and it just made it finally sink in that they were really doing this, they’re finally together.  
  


“You’re here,” Ichigo noted unnecessarily, standing across from him and looking him up and down. 

“You told me to come, so here I am!” Renji said, chin tilted up. “So where you takin’ me? I’m hungry.”  
  


Ichigo snorted and took his hand out of his pocket, holding it out to him to take — it’s _that_ one, the one that not so long ago had sought to kill him. It reached out for him with affection, open and waiting.   
  


“Impatient,” Ichigo muttered, but he’s not frowning for once. “Let’s go.”  
  
  


       And he thinks that this way, walking side by side, he can forget those long years of loneliness; the pains of the past ease.

                       — He can forget that he ever felt heartsick.


End file.
